


180 Days

by Traviosita9124



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, fitz/hunter/mack brotp, fitzskye brotp, high school teaching AU, simmons/skye/bobbi brotp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5414582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo Fitz had never planned on being a high school teacher, but here he is. Now his only goal is to survive the next 10 months, but with his flat mate's girlfriend working in the same building, and an incredibly cute colleague across the hall, that may prove to be more difficult than he'd ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. August

_ Crestwood Central High School _ .

Leo Fitz stared up at the letters adorning the side of the squat, tan building, and wondered, not for the first time, what the fuck he was doing there.

Then he remembered: the firm he’d been working for had cut their R&D budget. As the youngest, least experienced engineer on the payroll, he’d been the first shown the door. When his lack of employment had threatened the status of his work visa, he’d jumped at the opportunity his flat mate’s girlfriend had offered him: work as the physics teacher at her school and earn a teaching license. It’d be enough to keep him in the States, and according to Skye the vacation time couldn’t be beat. Plus, she’d reasoned, how hard could be it to teach physics? He, in his haste to find a way to avoid deportation, had agreed. Now, faced with the prospect of being trapped with 2000 high school students for eight months, he wondered if that had been a wise decision.

_ It’s too late t’ turn back now, _ he told himself as he hoisted a box of personal effects from his car, a cherry red Mustang he had bought dirt-cheap off a former co-worker and had painstakingly repaired, bit by bit. He tenderly rubbed his cuff over an imagined scuff as he shut the boot and sent up a silent prayer that the students here were careful drivers before slinking toward the main entrance.

Fitz mentally calculated the likelihood of today being terribly dull. From what Skye -  _ Daisy _ , he reminded himself, she was  _ Daisy  _ at work - had told him last night, today would just be teacher meetings, and likely the usual “getting-to-know-you” shite they pulled with new teachers. He’d grab his keys, drop his stuff off in his room, find a seat in the back, and grin and bear it until they dismissed them. He could do that easily enough; after all, he’d certainly had enough practice at it in undergrad.

He headed into the building, taking care of the few tasks on his checklist with ease before making his way to the cafeteria for the meeting. He hadn’t been in a room like this in ages, and he was hit with an uncomfortable feeling. Secondary school had not been the most cherished of times for him; he’d had difficulty making friends and the few he had managed eventually pulled away, intimidated by his big brain. So, he set his nose to the grindstone and studied, his only solace the time he spent in his uncle’s shop working on cars. Eventually, he managed to get into the mechanical engineering program at MIT, and once he’d left Glasgow in his rearview he’d never looked back.

Shaking off the unwelcome bout of nostalgia, Fitz slipped into a seat near the back, hoping to stay out of sight and avoid speaking to anyone.

“Hey,  _ Leopold _ !”

He jerked about at the voice, banging his knees on the low-slung table top in the process, and glared at the warmly amused brown eyes of the woman responsible for him being there. Really, he’d been naive to expect anything less from her.

“Shite! Chris’, Skye, dinnae sneak up on me like tha’.” Her eyes danced in amusement at his apparent distress. Fitz could tell that she clearly felt no remorse for causing him physical injury, but she at least had the decency to hide her grin behind her styrofoam coffee cup. When he saw a second cup in her hands, Fitz began to feel a little more warmly towards her. “One o’ those for me?”

She handed him his coffee as she swung a leg over the low-slung bench, straddling it to speak to him.

“Rule number one, Fitz: never, ever pass on the free coffee. Or bagels. Or food of any kind, to be honest. This is going to be  _ a lot _ like college; if it’s free, grab it and don’t look back.” She leafed through the heavy copy of that year’s faculty handbook, clearly disinterested, before tossing it on the table and turning her attention back to him. “They need to get this show on the road already. No offense, Fitz, but I can’t sit through another one of these bullshit meetings. As it is, I’m only here to give you moral support, otherwise I’d be holed up in my office getting the rest of the software licensing squared away. You know what that means, don’t you?” She gave him a wide grin and didn’t bother to wait for him to answer. “You owe me. You’re on dish duty the next five nights I come over and cook.”

“When was th’ las’ time you did th’ bloody dish-” he began, only to be cut off when Skye suddenly jumped up, waving and calling to a slight woman with shoulder-length brown hair.

“Jemma! Over here! Come sit with us!”

For the second time that morning Fitz found himself swiveling around, this time to see who exactly Skye was calling over. His tongue grew thick in his mouth as he took the other woman in. She was slim, with shoulder length brown hair and a wide, genuine smile. Fitz whipped back around to glare at his friend.

“ _ Skye _ ,” he hissed, “wha’ are you doin’?!”

“Stick with me, Fitz, and trust that I’m doing you a favor,” she whispered back before bringing her voice back to her normal volume. “Jemma, hi! How was your summer?”

“Not long enough, but it never is,” the newcomer replied, brushing her skirt down as she took the seat across from Fitz. “I was able to go home and visit my family for a little bit at least, so that was good.” Her hazel eyes flitted over to Fitz and she gave him a dazzling smile as she extended her hand. “Hi. Jemma Simmons. Chemistry. You are?”

The Scot found himself trying to will his jaw to keep from dropping. Not only was Skye’s friend gorgeous, but British, too. Sure, she may have been English, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Fitz liked his American friends well enough, but someone from home was a happy surprise. A year trapped with teenagers seemed like a much more pleasant prospect now, provided he could get his tongue to work properly.

“Um, Fitz… Leo Fitz, but really jus’ Fitz. ‘M only Leo when my mum’s-” He caught Skye glaring him from the corner of his eye and felt a blush creep up his neck. It only confirmed what he already knew: he was flubbing this terribly. He gave his head a little shake as though it could erase the last minute and braced himself to start again. “Doesnae matter. Fitz. ‘M new. They have me teachin’ physics.” Fitz gave her his best charming smile, praying that it was indeed pleasant and not the grimace Skye accused him of using whenever she badgered him into taking a selfie with her.

“Oh!” Jemma’s eyes lit up as she leaned toward him across the table and Fitz tallied a victory for himself. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely hopeless. “You’re across the hall from me, in Edwina’s old room. She was such a dear, but after that compressed air accident last year, it really is for the best that she retired.”

Jemma and Skye shared a sage nod, and Fitz was about to enquire as to what, exactly, had happened with Edwina and the compressed air when a middle aged man called everyone to attention. He recognized Phil Coulson from his final interview, and like that day he thought that the principal looked rather bland, like anyone’s middle aged father; kindly enough, but with a sternly set mouth. He was flanked by two women, one a statuesque blonde that Fitz would have found attractive if he hadn’t found her so bloody terrifying, and the other a petite Asian who seemed to scan the entire room without moving her head. The Scot had no trouble believing she’d be able to spot trouble a mile away without breaking a sweat, and made a mental note to not cross either of them.

Coulson tapped the top of the microphone, sending a burst of feedback through the speakers that caused the majority of the room to flinch. “Good morning,” he spoke over the faculty’s groaning, “and welcome back to a new school year.” Fitz wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but he was fairly certain Coulson hadn’t anticipated more groans. To his credit, the older man laughed off the reaction before pressing on, “Enough! The sooner we get underway, the sooner we get back to summer! Now, if someone wouldn’t mind waking up Hunter, we can go over changes to the handbook…”

~*~

Fitz somehow managed to slog through the meeting, although he would have to read the handbook on his own later. He’d spent the majority of his time cooped up in the cafeteria trying not to stare at Jemma. One, she would have thought him a creep if she caught him at it, and two, Skye was watching him. He loved her, but had no doubt his friend would gladly take the piss out of him if he were any more obvious in his observations. So he did his best to ignore the young woman seated across from him, giving her no more than a quick, tight smile and a hurried, “See you around,” before taking refuge in his classroom.

The only problem was that once he got inside, he had no idea what he was doing.

“ _ Fuck _ .”

Fitz heaved out a sigh as he scrubbed a hand through his curls and glanced about the room. His desk - really more of a lab bench with plenty of extra space for demonstrations - dominated the front of the room, running the whole length of the white board. He circled around behind it and began shuffling through drawers as though divine inspiration would strike him between the eyes and he’d suddenly know what it was he needed to do. Fitz was digging through his bottom-most drawer and contemplating hunting down Skye for help when a soft cough caused him to jerk upright in surprise.

Blue eyes went wide as he took in the sight of Jemma Simmons leaning against the open door to his room. In the cafeteria he’d been so focused on Skye and controlling his impulse to throttle her that he hadn’t really taken in what the Englishwoman had been wearing. Which, Fitz reflected, had likely been for the best. It was only a demure maroon sundress and a white cardigan, perfectly acceptable for a work environment in warmer weather, but he still found his mind wandering down a decidedly more dangerous path. Covering with a cough of his own, Fitz glanced at the smooth black surface of his desk and began to fiddle with his box of personal effects in an attempt to make sure it truly was centered.

“Oh, hi. I, uh, I didnae see you there.” He ventured another look and prayed his blush hadn’t risen all the way to his temples.

“Feeling a little lost?” Jemma wandered across the threshold and took a few steps toward him, stopping just short of the desk. “I was the same way my first day on the job. I had no idea where to even begin…” She trailed off and Fitz watched as she rocked up onto the balls of her feet and surveyed the room. He was suddenly terribly self-conscious of his stark white walls.

“Yeah, I,” Fitz tore her eyes off her and began pulling things out of the box, haphazardly piling up all of the material that had been given to new teachers at orientation before him along with the other bits of bric-a-brac he’d kept on his desk at his old firm. “I hate t’ say it, but I dinnae have a bloody clue.” Feeling defeated he sighed and dropped the empty box onto the floor. He had only served to move his clutter from one place to another but it at least felt like progress. Sort of.

Thankfully Jemma seemed to be the merciful sort and didn’t wait for him to explicitly ask for her assistance. Instead she picked up his information packet and began leafing through it, skimming over the material with practiced ease. And if she happened to move near enough that their shoulders practically brushed, well, Fitz certainly wasn’t going to complain. Not about that or the fact that he could catch a faint whiff of jasmine and orange coming from her.

“Oh, you have a freshman homeroom too!”

He did? Fitz hadn’t been aware of that, but it seemed to make her happy so he nodded, smiled, and made an affirmative sound while she plowed on.

“I’m so glad there’ll be another science teacher in there with me. A few years ago I was stuck with a bunch of people from the English department… they all are really very kind, but they kept wanting to discuss the meanings of colors. As if reflective wavelengths have any deeper meaning than what they already are!”

Jemma shook her head, clearly amused by the memory, and Fitz found himself fascinated by the scattering of freckles that dusted the bridge of her nose and cheeks. It wasn’t until she looked up at him that he realized she was waiting for him to speak and he quickly tried to find something - anything - to say that wouldn’t make him seem like a complete imbecile. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead all the clever things he wanted to say died on the tip of his tongue, and Fitz was forced to watch as her expectant expression fell and she took a half step back from him.

“Your walls are rather bare.”

Fitz tore his eyes from her to glance around the room, his lips twisting into an embarrassed smile as he surveyed the blank stretches of painted cinder blocks.  “Yeah, um, I didnae think about havin’ t’ decorate anythin’.” He lifted his shoulders in a sheepish shrug and began fiddling with the items he’d dumped out, attempting to arrange them into some semblance of order. If there was a merciful God, she’d slip out and he’d be able to kick himself for being such a bloody moron in peace.

He couldn’t keep the ruse up for long though, and when he heard rustling from the closet Fitz glanced up only to find his new colleague digging through the mess piled at the bottom.

“Wha’ are you doin’?” HIs query was a tad more waspish than he’d have liked, but thankfully Jemma didn’t seem to mind.

“Edwina left some posters in here; she offered them to me last May if I wanted to redecorate my room. You settle your desk and I’ll see to the walls. We’ll have your room looking right in no time.”

Fitz momentarily froze, uncertain what to think of the petite woman who had just assumed he’d want her help. He didn’t know much about her yet, but one thing was clear: Jemma Simmons was a force of nature. “Cheers,” he replied, smiling to himself as he began reorganizing in earnest.

God was apparently not only merciful, but kind as well.

~*~

Fitz rolled his shoulders and shoved two fingers beneath his fully-buttoned collar, desperate for a bit of air. It was stifling in the auditorium, despite the air con that was blasting to combat the late summer heat.

“Hey, stop that,” Skye chided, batting his hands away and reaching over to readjust his tie. Fitz scowled down at her, but let her work. He had never dealt well with nerves, and he knew that snapping at her would only make things worse. Even so, that didn’t stop him from grumbling at her even after he caught sight of Jemma watching the exchange from across the hall. 

Over the course of two weeks, Fitz had found he enjoyed spending time with the other Brit. Whether it was finding an excuse to sit near her during staff meetings or just standing in the hallway during passing period and chatting, seeing her brightened his day. Skye certainly had picked up on it, teasing him relentlessly over dinner until even the very tips of his ears went pink. Thankfully she laid off while they were both in the building; otherwise he was certain his students would tease him more than they already did.

For a bunch of 14 to 18 year olds who couldn’t manage to check the online class portal for their daily assignments, they were bloody observant. It hadn’t taken them long at all to realize that Mr. Fitz would refuse to meet their gazes if they brought up Ms. Simmons across the hall, and he had taken to threatening detentions against anyone who pressed the issue too far.

“Sk- Daisy, really, it’s all righ’. Quit fussin’.”

“I’ll quit once you stop looking like a ragamuffin that just rolled out of bed.”

Fitz dodged the last pass of her fingers and scowled, stepping back so Skye couldn’t get her hands on him again.

“‘M a grown man,” he groused, tugging at the blue striped bit of cloth and running a hand through his curls, upsetting all of Skye’s previous work. She stuck her tongue out at him and Fitz was ready to fire back with a rude hand gesture of his own when he caught sight of the Dean just over the younger woman’s shoulder. She was standing close - almost too close - to Hunter, her finger in his chest as she hissed at him.

“They’re at it again.”

The soft English lilt startled Fitz, causing him to jump and bump into Jemma. She’d come up next to him without his noticing and gave a little nod in the direction of their compatriot, whose voice had steadily been growing in volume, only to cut off when a parent approached Bobbi. Hunter took the opportunity to take off, his shoulders clearly tense. Fitz was tempted to go after him, but he could wait until later. Skye had been pushing him to be more social at work, and so he’d made plans to go to a nearby pub after they were done at the school. He’d ask then; besides, he did  _ not  _ want to risk Barbara Morse knowing he was sniffing around her business.

Skye sighed as she followed the direction of their gazes and gave a small shake of her head. “They’ll figure it out. Eventually. And likely loudly. After far too many shots of tequila.” She looked up at Fitz and smirked. “If you ever wondered why I’m over so often - other than Trip’s abs - well, that’s it.”

Fitz’ eyes went wide as he gaped at the arguing pair. Without the girls’ gossip he never would have thought it possible that the stern, by-the-book Dean of Students would ever take up with a ne’er-do-well gym coach, but what he had seen was undeniably a lover’s spat. Just then Bobbi turned abruptly, her gaze fixated on three young faculty members.

“What are you looking at? Don’t you have presentations to give?” The three of them nodded mutely, too shocked to move, lest they upset her further. “Then get to it!”

That did it, and the three scampered off to their designated areas: Skye up to the computer lab to explain the school's technology policy and Fitz and Jemma back to the science wing for their own presentation. 

~*~

When he’d been told at the beginning of the week that he was expected to do a demonstration for parents in order to show off the resources available to their students, Fitz had felt sick to his stomach. It was one thing to teach a bunch of teenagers, but another entirely to speak to their parents. He must have looked green in the gills because Jemma had quickly volunteered to present with him, even flashing him a wide, supportive smile as she did so.

Which was exactly when his nerves kicked into high gear. Looking foolish in front of parents was bad enough; looking foolish in front of parents  _ and _ Jemma would be an absolute disaster.

Thankfully his fears had been unfounded. Jemma - who Fitz was beginning to think was prepared for every possible situation and at least a dozen other contingencies - had a demonstration ready to go. Ice cream. Specifically, homemade, liquid-nitrogen exposed ice cream. Never having been one to turn down food of any kind, Fitz had enthusiastically agreed to her plan, which was how he found himself pouring vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry ice cream mixes into containers of liquid nitrogen while Jemma explained the chemistry behind the process to a crowd of intrigued parents.

Fitz took advantage of his partner’s distraction to sneak looks at her, and he wondered if she knew how her eyes lit up whenever she had the chance to talk science. She practically glowed and it felt as though her barely-contained enthusiasm might come spilling out of her all at once at any minute. If Fitz hadn’t already found her attractive, that would have finished the job, and he was beginning to suspect that it was her enthusiasm, not just her looks, that made her one of the student favorites at CCHS.

While he’d managed to avoid doing most of the speaking during the actual presentation, Fitz found that there was no escape afterward. He had no choice but to smile and make nice as parents nattered on at him and tried to convince him that their son or daughter deserved the highest possible marks on the next round of progress reports. Fitz did his best to smile through it as he mentally counted down minutes until the last parents left and he could meet Hunter and Mack. They’d been given a late start and the three of them had plans to make good use of their evening.

He was just beginning to contemplate what he’d order for his first pint when a well-manicured hand curled around his forearm, effectively drawing Fitz’ attention away from his clean up duties. Said hand belonged to a twiggy bleach blonde who simpered at him from beneath her overly darkened lashes.

“Oh. Um. Hello,” Fitz mumbled, wondering what she could possibly want.

“Hi, Mr. Fitz.” She giggled as she said his name, a high, grating sound that made him want to flinch away from her. Somehow he resisted. “I’m Jeremy's mother, from your homeroom?”

“Oh, righ’, Jeremy. How are you, Mrs. Davis?”

“Oh, it’s just Ms. Turner now. I went back to my maiden name after the divorce,” she told him with a sly look. Fitz for his part did his best not to ask if she had something in her eye. She was batting them so violently, though, he thought that had to be the case. “Anyway, I wanted to give you my number. You know, in case you needed to speak to me about Jeremy or anything…”

Fitz felt his heart squeeze tightly in his chest as panic crept up on him. He was about to stammer out that he most certainly did  _ not  _ want her number when he felt Jemma press up against his opposite side. He shot her a look, but his colleague didn’t spare him a glance; her eyes were fixed on the blonde, and while she was smiling, it didn’t hold its usual friendliness.

“Leo’s - I mean, Mr. Fitz’ contact information can be found on the school website. I’m sure that would be the easiest way to get a hold of him. Isn’t that right?” Jemma looked up at him with an expression that caused him to suck in a breath. Fitz could have sworn that she was looking at him with intent, and it very nearly caused him to forget the woman who had quite literally sunk her claws into him.

“Tha’s true,” he confirmed, giving the disappointed-looking blonde an apologetic smile. “Th’ school also doesnae wan’ us t’ give ou’ personal information. So students cannae ge’ hold o’ it. You understan’.” That last bit wasn’t strictly true, but it sounded plausible enough.

With one last disappointed look toward Fitz, and a rather judgmental one for Jemma, the former Mrs. Davis slunk out of the room. Fitz let out a sigh of relief and gave Jemma a nudge with his shoulder. “Thanks for tha’. She seems like she migh’ be somthin’ else.”

Jemma’s cheeks tinged pink and she giggled softly, shaking her head as she looked away. Even though she was no longer meeting his eyes, Fitz was pleased to note that she hadn’t taken a step back from him. Maybe, just maybe, the bit of flirting he’d been trying over the past couple of weeks had done him some good in terms of making an inroad with her.

“It’s nothing. You just looked like you could use some saving, that’s all.”

“I did,” he answered, voice sincere, as he squared off to her. Fitz suddenly found himself invading her personal space, something he hadn’t meant to do, but he couldn’t force himself to pull back, either. “Thank you for tha’. I owe you one-”

“Oi! Fitz! Let’s go mate. Mack’s waiting on us already.”

Hunter’s voice caused them both to jump apart. Fitz shot his coworker an annoyed look as Jemma rushed through an apology and ducked out of the door, her kelly green jumper disappearing faster than he'd have thought possible. There’d been  _ something  _ between them, he was sure of it, but the moment had been broken and Fitz wasn’t sure if he’d ever get it back. Still feeling annoyed, he brushed past Hunter and turned toward the faculty parking lot without saying a word.

“What? What the bloody hell has your knickers in such a twist?!”

~*~

An hour later at a tall boy littered with empty pint glasses and bottles - and a shot glass or two for good measure - Hunter was still running at the mouth, although not for reasons Fitz fully understood. Lord knew he found Bobbi Morse terrifying, but he wasn’t blind. She was beautiful, and he very much thought Hunter would be better off just being thankful he’d been allowed to touch her at all. But what did he know?

“She’s bloody awful. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, getting involved with her.”

Fitz rolled his eyes, ready to tell his mate off when Mack took the words right out of his mouth.

“Something tells me your head wasn’t doing the thinking.” The mountain of a man drained the last bit of beer from his bottle before slipping off his stool and going to the bar for yet another round.

“Hardy har har,” Hunter retorted, fiddling with his own glass. “You’re bloody brilliant, Mack, you know that?” When it was clear the autos teacher wasn’t going to answer him, he turned back to his captive audience: Fitz. “Seriously, mate. Don’t bother getting involved with a bird at work. It’s nothing but trouble. They get mad when you don’t call, but don’t want to be seen with you in the halls. There’s no winning for me with Bob, and I promise there’ll be no winning with you and Simmons. Trust me.”

Fitz had mostly been tuning the other man out when Jemma’s name suddenly drew him back into the conversation. “Simmons? Wha’ in the hell does she have t’ do with this? With any of this?!”

“I saw what I broke up tonight. That bird likes you. Don’t do it, Fitz, no matter how cute she is or how often she bats her lashes at you. It’s not worth it. Even if the sex  _ is _ phenomenal...”

Fitz’ brows pulled together, uncertain as to how to react to that unsolicited confession when Mack returned. He took the time to set down their fresh drinks before reaching out to slap Hunter upside the head. “Knock it off. Just because  _ you’re _ too stupid to keep a relationship functional doesn’t mean Fitz is.” Turning his attention to the Scot, he asked, “Do you like Simmons?”

Fitz felt his cheeks go pink and he fiddled with the label of an empty bottle as he did his best not to answer. His coworkers were nice enough, but he wasn’t ready to share that kind of information with them. Not now, and maybe not ever.

“There’s your answer, Mack. He’s smitten.”

“And so what if he is?” Fitz hadn’t been expecting that challenge to Hunter’s assertion, and he found himself watching the autos teacher, curious as to what he’d say next. “You’re both adults. She isn’t your superior,” he shot a significant look toward Hunter before continuing, “so there isn’t a power issue. If you’re really interested, or think she might be, you should go for it.”

 

Fitz scoffed, really not wanting to give an answer now that he’d essentially been called out for his growing crush, and took up the fresh pint Mack had placed before him. “I need t’ figure out how in th’ hell I’m goin’ t’ teach these bloody classes before anythin’ else. I’m no’ a teacher, no’ really. Sorry t’ disappoin’ you both, bu’ survivin’ this year is top o’ my list, no’ Jemma Simmons.”

But even as Fitz said it, he knew it was an absolute lie.

 


	2. September

“God, he is _such_ an asshole!”

Bobbi Morse didn’t even pull a face as the vodka hit the back of her throat. Instead she merely reached over for the untouched shot sitting before Jemma and downed it before the younger woman could stop her. Not for the first time Jemma was very thankful that she hadn’t agreed to go in on a flat with the other two and that it would be up to Skye to get their Amazonian friend home.

“It’s okay, Bobbi. I wasn’t planning on taking that anyway,” Jemma deadpanned before signaling the waitress for another drink. She purposefully ordered a strawberry daiquiri, knowing that it was too sweet for either of her friends to poach, even in their inebriated state. “And if he’s such an asshole, why did you spend your entire summer with him?”

“Because, believe it or not, the sex is _incredible_.”

Despite being used to their friend’s habitual oversharing, Daisy pulled a face and gave a comical shudder at Bobbi’s declaration. “Ugh. Please. Don’t ever let me hear you say that again. Hunter? _Hunter_? God, there isn’t enough booze to erase that image from my brain.” Still, she reached for her own shot and tipped it back in the clear hopes of proving herself wrong.

“Daisy,” Jemma chided, giving the younger woman a light tap on the shoulder. “You were just as bad when you first started dating Trip. Remember?”

She took a long sip of her drink and gave Daisy a significant look over the rim, a silent reminder of the countless girls’ nights where Jemma and Bobbi sat through retellings of the couple’s latest bedroom escapades. Thankfully, Trip was a private person. Once he’d found out the details she’s been sharing, he quickly made it clear that Daisy could stop telling stories or she could find a new beau. After that, the stories had stopped.

“Look, all I’m saying,” Daisy focused on Bobbi, who was watching the exchange with rapt attention, “is that either you get over it and get back under Hunter-”

“Daisy!”

“- or you just need to let it go. Dwelling isn’t healthy.”

 

Jemma’s eyes rolled over to her matter-of-fact friend and she had to fight back a disbelieving scoff. “Really? Are you _anyone_ to talk about dwelling?”

Back when they had both first been hired at Crestwood Central, Jemma had endured three months of Daisy analyzing each and every passing conversation she had with one of the Spanish teachers - whom the IT specialist had quickly nicknamed Señor Hot Lips - during their meager lunch breaks. It had all ended rather abruptly once he introduced them to his boyfriend at the faculty holiday party, but the point still stood.

She watched as Daisy’s eyes went wide and she inhaled, preparing herself to respond, when Bobbi interrupted. “None of us have room to talk.” Two pairs of quizzical brown eyes fixed on the blonde, silently demanding an explanation. With an exasperated sigh, Bobbi pressed on. “I can’t stop thinking about Hunter, we all know how single-minded Daisy can be, and every time Jemma looks at Fitz, it’s obvious she wants to jump his bones.”

“Barbara Morse, I never-!”

“She totally does!”

Jemma huffed and took a rather large sip of her drink, glaring at both of her so-called friends. Not that it fazed them in the least. Daisy and Bobbi just sat there, wearing matching expectant smirks, as they waited for her to formulate a response, and for every moment that passed without one Jemma could feel her cheeks grow just a bit warmer. She shifted her weight, the soles of her shoes sticking slightly to the floor as her brain finally latched onto something acceptable to say.

“He’s a colleague who’s feeling out of his depth,” she insisted. “I’m just helping Fitz out, the same way Edwina helped me when I first came to Crestwood.”

“Except Edwina never looked at you like she wanted to take a bite out of your ass.”

Jemma opened her mouth to say something smart, but Daisy’s confident retort froze her ability to speak. As much as she might try to deny it, Jemma knew that she spent far too much of her time stealing peeks of her coworker from across the hall, took too long to compose herself before approaching him in the faculty lounge during lunch. Silently admitting defeat, Jemma downed the last of her daiquiri and flagged down the server for another round. She would definitely need a few more to make it through the rest of her night.

~*~

After that night Jemma did her best to not - as Daisy so eloquently put it - look as though she wanted to take a bite out of Fitz. The man had a right to work without feeling harassed after all and she herself had far too often been on the receiving end of such treatment. It wouldn’t do at all, and Jemma resolved herself to treating Leo Fitz with the dignity and respect he deserved. He was a colleague. She would treat him as such and that would be that.

Except that was so much more difficult than she’d ever imagined.

Somehow, he always managed to catch her as they came in the morning, giving her a soft smile as he gallantly nodded her through the door ahead of him, something which never failed to make Jemma’s stomach flutter pleasantly. Or he would give her a little wave through their windows if they ever happened to make eye contact, or he would purposefully engage her in conversation during passing periods. Which wouldn’t have been horrendous, truly, if not for the fact that whenever he did the world seemed to narrow down to his bright blue eyes and his brogue, leaving her entirely unaware of what the students were doing around her. And the kids knew it, too. They smiled and teased her about what accent her children would have when she ducked back into her room, leaving her to be stern with the ones who wouldn’t settle into their daily bell ringer.

Not that their teasing stopped Jemma from making the effort to stop by his room and say goodbye to him each afternoon before she went home, or the thrill that shot through her when Fitz’ sapphire eyes locked with hers as he smiled. She was anticipating the sensation as she approached his door one day just before Homecoming, only to find Daisy already there. Her friend was perched on the lab bench directly in front of Fitz’ desk, legs crossed and elbows casually resting on her knees as they spoke. Jemma felt a twinge of regret and immediately felt guilty. She adored Daisy. There was absolutely no reason to feel that way, even if it meant she didn’t get her moment alone with Fitz.

“Hey, you two,” Jemma interrupted, leaning against the doorframe as she let her bag of grading drop to the floor.

“Jemma, hi!” Fitz, who had been slouched in his chair bolted upright to greet her, his mussed curls and loosened tie leaving him looking a bit like an eager puppy. It was impossibly charming and she found herself nibbling her lower lip and glancing down at the ground before looking to Daisy. The knowing look the other woman wore did not bode well for her and Jemma quickly tried to school her expression into something that at least resembled neutrality.

“I was just telling Fitzy-” the engineer scowled at Daisy’s alteration of his name “- about Homecoming week. He seems to think that dressing up each day of the week is childish.”

“It’s ridiculous, a bunch o’ adults dressin’ up along wit’ th’ kids!”

“Oh, but that’s part of the fun!” Jemma protested. “It’s a bonding thing. And there are always bragging rights for who has the best costumes.”

“Jemma’s won the past four years running,” Daisy volunteered. “Her costume for Superhero Day was… well, memorable to say the least.”

“How was I supposed to know dressing as Black Widow was going to create such a stir? The only guidelines were that we had to be covered. And I was. From head to toe.” Jemma’s tone had turned purposefully sanctimonious while Daisy snickered.

“Sure. Covered. In a tight black jumpsuit. At least we know the boys had no trouble staying awake in your anatomy lecture that day. Some of the girls, too.” Daisy waggled her brows at her and Jemma had the grace to blush.

“Tsk. Stop. They’re kids. Even though I know they think that way, I don’t want to know about it.” Her statement was gentle but firm. She had seen too many colleagues blur lines with students over the past few years and the very last thing Jemma ever wanted to do was fall into that mistake in any way, shape, or form. “But it is loads of fun,” she insisted, turning her attention back to Fitz. He wore a slightly glassy-eyed expression that may have indicated his boredom but she plowed on. “If nothing else it’s a nice way to stir things up midway through the semester.”

“Well then,” the Scot answered, expression turning a tad mischievous, “maybe tha’ means I’ll jus’ have t’ give you a run for your money this year then, yeah?”

Jemma picked up her grading and hoisted the heavy bag onto her free shoulder with a laugh. “Well, you’re certainly welcome to try. Good night, you two. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” With that she left the pair and made her way to her car, her mind already turning over possible ideas for next week’s dress up days.

~*~

To Jemma’s surprise, Leo Fitz was as good as his word. He did give her a run for her money, not that she’d ever admit that aloud. When she’d walked in that Monday she’d had to do a double take; Fitz had apparently taken “Pajama Day” to heart and had found an adult sized Iron Man onesie that put her sleep tee, leggings, and slippers to shame. The little eyebrow wiggle he gave her though, half teasing and half challenge, was what really stoked her competitive spirit and by the end of the week Jemma was certain that both she and Fitz had spent several hundred dollars trying to outdo each other.

Although, in the interest of full disclosure, she felt that his tongue-tied reaction to seeing her dressed as slightly tarted-up incarnation of Marie Curie for Future Career Day had been well worth the money she’d spent on the get up.

They’d continued in that vein all week, each goading the other into bigger and better costumes until they finally found themselves at an impasse Friday, both of them decked out in in the school colors. Fitz had even go so far as to borrow a student’s temporary hair dye, leaving his usually dirty blond curls an oddly fetching mix of orange and blue. Jemma leaned against the wall just outside her classroom door, mimicking Fitz’ relaxed position as they waited for their respective homerooms to be called to the assembly.

“So are we callin’ a truce or no’?”

Jemma scoffed and shook her head. “A truce? Really? You think after five days I’m willing to call a truce?”

“Well, considering I absolutely destroyed you when it came t’ Favorite Team day -”

“Oh, please, dressing up in one of Hunter’s Manchester kits hardly counts -”

“- and your outfi’ for ‘50s day was questionable at bes’ -”

“- you probably couldn’t even name the starting line -”

“Uh, Ms. Simmons?”

Jemma jumped when she felt the light touch on her arm, causing her to jerk away from the quiet blonde who had somehow crept out of her classroom. “Yes, Kelly? Was there something I could do for you?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Simmons, but I couldn’t get your attention. I just wanted to know if I could go to the bathroom before the assembly.”

Jemma felt her cheeks heat as the girl looked between her and Fitz, her green eyes keenly curious. She had a reputation amongst both students and staff of being tough but fair and the fact that she’d been too distracted to hear her own homeroom students calling for her embarrassed her more than a bit. She supposed she could blame Fitz - after all if he didn’t have those startling blue eye she certainly wouldn’t have been as inattentive - but she was really too old to be so distracted by a man. Even if his eyes _were_ inordinately pretty.

“Sure, we have a few minutes. Go on. Just be quick about it.” Jemma and Fitz watched as the little freshman hurried down the hall, her long ponytail bouncing against her back. Once she’d disappeared from sight, Jemma turned back to her colleague and gave him a regretful smile. “So, I guess that means I should get back to them, hmm?”

“Um, yeah,” Fitz muttered with a bashful glance at the floor, “I suppose i’ does. I’ll see you a’ th’ assembly then?”

Jemma gave him a short nod and smile before turning back to her own classroom door a raucous chorus of, “So did Mr. Fitz _finally_ ask you out?” greeting her as she stepped over the threshold.

~*~

Somehow Jemma managed to lead her homeroom into the gym without spontaneously combusting, despite the periodic tittering that came from the children trailing along behind her.  She had never realized just how fascinating her dating life was to a group of 14 and 15 year olds, but there you had it. She and Fitz were the school’s hottest gossip, despite nothing untoward going on between them. Unfortunately.

She happened to catch a flash of bright blue eyes on her and had to look away before her cheeks positively went up in flames. Silently she rebuked herself; she was a grown woman who couldn’t look a colleague in the eye simply because she found him attractive. Objectively speaking she’d been with more attractive men, men who were taller with broad shoulders and impressively low body fat percentages, but something about the Scottish engineer wouldn’t allow her to view him as simply just another man. Feeling far too aware of Fitz standing a few paces down on the same bleacher as he kept a watchful eye over his own homeroom, Jemma found herself silently reviewing her lesson plans for next week in the hopes of distracting herself, which worked well until the surprised shouts of 2000 high school students and the rumble of a motor pulled her attention back to the gym floor.

“What the - “

“Look, it’s Reilly!”

“Isn’t that Coulson’s car?”

“How’d they get it - “

“HUNTER!”

Jemma’s hazel eyes blew wide as she took in the sight before her: three seniors - all of whom were familiar with Crestwood’s Saturday detention program - were driving Coulson’s prized Corvette right onto center court, and Lance Hunter of all people was holding open the doors for them. Seemingly without hesitation May planted herself in front of the slow-rolling vehicle and Bobbi made a beeline for her erstwhile beau. Jemma had to admire the other woman’s restraint; instead of screaming at the Brit as she’d expected, Bobbi merely hustled him out the door and into the corridor. Although, if Hunter’s expression was anything to go by, the blonde had said something that scared the hell out of him.

The chemistry teacher didn’t have much time to ponder it, however, as the stunned hush gave way to pandemonium in the bleachers around her as the students rushed the floor to get a closer look at the principal’s car as well as the students bold enough to take it for a joyride. Not even Melinda May could fend off a mob of students, and despite the best efforts of the advisors Jemma quickly realized she’d be better off away from the madness at center court.

She wasn’t the only one with the idea. Just as she took a step toward the far sideline she felt a warm hand brush against her shoulder and a now-familiar brogue in her ear.

“C’mon. This is bloody madness. Bes’ if we’re no’ in th’ middle o’ it all.”

Jemma paused to toss a smart remark over her shoulder, which ultimately proved to be their undoing. Fitz was jostled from behind as a junior surged forward, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Somehow - Jemma couldn’t say how it happened with any kind of certainty - she landed atop Fitz, the physics teacher giving a little _oof_ as he took on her weight. Time slowed as it dawned on Jemma just how closely she was pressed against him, her breathing turning shallow in response. Azure eyes scanned her face and she caught her lower lip between her teeth to keep from impulsively leaning down and kissing him.

“Hey, look at Mr. Fitz and Ms. Simmons!”

“What? What are Fitz-Simmons up to?”

“Jesus, you two, get a damn room,” Skye teased, voice pitched low to avoid gaining more attention from passing students and  brown eyes dancing with mirth as she leaned down to help Jemma to her feet. She reached down for Fitz next who peevishly ignored her as he scrambled up and began dusting himself off.

“It’s no’ like we did tha’ on purpose, these children are damn animals -”

“Sure, it’s the kids,” Skye answered, knowing smile firmly in place. Jemma busied herself with dusting herself off instead of correcting her friend. There would be time for that later, provided she didn’t manage to will the ground to swallow her whole on the spot. When it became apparent that she wouldn’t be that lucky, Jemma merely smiled at them both and looked over to where May, Coulson, and Bobbi were wrangling students back into order.

“It was just an accident, Daisy. Nothing more, nothing less.” She risked a look at Fitz, but when she saw the confused, slightly hurt look on his face she quickly turned away to find her homeroom. As much as she wanted to believe she was brave, she simply wasn’t ready to delve into why he would give her that particular look.

~*~

“Daisy, _please_ , just let me stay -”

“No can do, love. It’s me and Daisy working the snack table. If you wanted the plum assignment, you should have been here earlier.”

Jemma glared at Hunter, but the only thing he did in response was pop more snack mix into his mouth and grin around the mass of crushed pretzels and rye crackers as his fellow Englishwoman attempted to stare a hole through his face.

“You can keep doing that all you like, darling, but after Bobbi you’re positively kittenish.”

With a little _hmph_ of frustration she turned back to Daisy, ready to beg if only she’d be allowed to stay. But all her friend offered her was a half-hearted shrug. “Sorry, Jems, but Trainspotting here has a point. He was here first.”

“That’s bollocks -”

“I’m not even Scottish!”

Daisy cut off both Brits’ protests with a raised hand. “Unless you want connectivity problems with your laptops for the rest of the year, no arguing. Now, Statham, where’d you put that pile of Raisinets? Findley just walked in and given what I found on his hard drive last year, I’d say a little bit of target practice is in order…”

Knowing she was defeated, Jemma left Daisy and Hunter to whatever childish revenge they were in the mood to seek. She set her mind to finding something to do other than stand in the gym watching students writhe against each other, but to no avail. The coat check was being manned by an awkward social science teacher who somehow always managed to bring every conversation she ever had with her back to the American Revolution and the ticket taking was done for the night. Not even Bobbi would allow her to tag along as she weeded out those couples who had sought out Crestwood’s more private corners, claiming that Jemma was too obvious and would only serve to tip them off.

It really left Jemma with no choice but to slink back to the gym to watch the festivities and cast the occasional disapproving glance at those who became a bit too free with their affections, and she found herself positively dreading the rest of her night.

Until she spotted Fitz, looking uncomfortable in his suit and tie as he leaned against the now-collapsed bleachers. Her traitorous heart began to skip in her chest and Jemma had to take a deep breath before she gathered the nerve to go over to him. Just because the assembly had left them feeling a bit awkward was no reason to ignore a colleague. She had to work across the hall from him, for heaven’s sake! Feeling shy, Jemma sidled up to him and leaned up against the bleachers at what she deemed was a respectable distance.

“Hey, Fitz.”

“Oh- Jemma, hey.” The Scot stood a little straighter and unconsciously toyed with his tie, causing the corners of Jemma’s mouth to curl upward. She wondered if he realized how adorable he was when he did things like that and had to shake herself to bring herself back on task.

“How are things?”

“Oh, they’re good, you know.”

“Oh, good. The kids haven’t been too problematic?” Jemma inclined her head toward the dance floor, studiously avoiding looking directly at any of the couples that were busy feeling each other up.

“Er, well, I suppose tha’ depends,” he replied, bringing a hand up and scratching the back of his neck. “I… Um, well.” Fitz glanced down, clearly searching for the right words before looking back up at Jemma. “No’ t’ be indelicate, bu’ d’ you ever worry about them gettin’ in trouble?”

It was dark in the gym but even that wasn’t enough to hide the blush on his cheeks, giving away exactly what he meant. Jemma arched a brow at him, wanting to give him a bit of a tough time without scaring him off completely. “Trouble?” she asked, purposefully playing dense in order to force him into saying what he was thinking.

“I jus’... some o’ them seem t’ be gettin’ awfully familiar wit’ each other. Tha’s all,” he explained, looking properly abashed as he looked away.

Taking mercy on him, Jemma shifted another foot along the bleachers, allowing her shoulder to just brush against his so he would know he had nothing to be embarrassed over. “If you mean pregnancy, yes, it sometimes happens, but not as often as you’d think. No, really,” she insisted when he gave her a dubious look. “Most of our students want to go to college. They’re _expected_ to go to college. So they take precautions. Doesn’t mean there aren’t accidents, but they’re not as often as you’d expect either.” Jemma bumped his shoulder with hers and grinned up at him when Fitz’ blue eyes met her brown. “You don’t remember being a teen? All those hormones raging out of control?”

Fitz’ gaze flickered down to her lips and Jemma’s breath hitched in anticipation. “I remember somethin’ like tha’,” he conceded. Jemma noticed that his own breathing had gone shallow and he seemed to be inching closer. Part of her warned that she should pull away, that it would be highly inappropriate to snog a co-worker where students could see them, but she quickly found that she didn’t really care. “Jemma, I -”

“Ms. Simmons! Come dance with us!”

The chorus of teen voices calling out caused Jemma to jerk back, her head accidentally bumping into the worn wood behind her. When she managed to look at them, a gaggle of eager students peered at her, five pairs of eyes pleading for her to join them on the dance floor.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she demurred, feeling thankful that the students were likely too young to realize what had been about to happen - or rather what she had hoped had been about to happen.

“Oh, please, Ms. Simmons? It’s the Cupid Shuffle!”

“No, really, I have two left feet -”

“‘M sure you dance beautifully,” Fitz murmured, quietly enough that only she could hear before turning his attention back to the students before them. “No can do, sorry,” he told the students. “Coulson willnae le’ us have any fun.”

“Really?” one of the more gullible girls asked. She was clearly taken with Fitz and looked up at him with wide, eager eyes as he spoke. If she hadn’t been so young, Jemma might have rolled her eyes at the display. As it was she was content to sit back and watch Fitz work.

“Well, y’ know how principals have t’ be. All serious an’ th’ like. They wan’ us t’ be th’ same, so no dancin’.”

“Aww. All right. We’ll see you later?”

“Sure,” Jemma said, nodding to send them on their way, “we’ll see you Monday. Go have fun.” She watched as they melted back into the sea of taffeta, satin, and sequins, then turned back to Fitz. “Thanks for the save.”

“No problem. ‘M happy t’ help.”

The soft grin he gave her made Jemma’s belly flip and she found herself suddenly feeling bold. “It’s too bad you had to lie to them about dancing.”

“Wha’? Why?” Fitz’ brow furrowed in confusion, leaving Jemma nearly overwhelmed by the impulse to reach out and smooth it with her finger.

“Because, I was hoping to claim a dance later.”

She gave him a playful smile and small shrug before turning to walk away. Jemma was tempted to turn back and say something more - or at least see the (hopefully) stunned look on his face - but resisted. She and Daisy had talked about how to make an impression on the Scottish engineer; something told her she had just received top marks in that regard.

 


	3. October

“Wai’, wai’... we have t’ do  _ wha’ _ ?!”

Fitz set his beer bottle on the rolling tool cart and stared at Hunter, clearly not processing what had just been said.

“Parent-Teacher conferences, mate,” Hunter repeated with a chuckle. He hopped off the shop bench and meandered toward the younger man, taking care to pick his way over Mack’s legs as he finished his own bottle of ale. “You know, we all sit around for three hours and wait for parents to come in and chat about their kids. If we’re lucky, the mums are hot and single and more interested in roasting their kids than our sacks over their marks.”

Fitz felt the blood drain from his face as Hunter smirked at him. Skye had never mentioned having to sit around talking to parents for hours unend, but then again, she wasn’t a teacher. She probably didn’t need to even be at school that evening. His eyes slipped shut and his head fell forward as he imagined his Thursday night: stuffed into a suit and badgered by an endless stream of parents wanting to know why their would-be Ivy Leaguer was only getting a B in AP Physics.

For once he’d rather spend his time grading.

“Relax, Turbo,” Mack rumbled out as he slid out from beneath his truck and into view. Grease was smeared across his shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind. Permanently stained clothes were just par for the course, Fitz supposed. “First quarter most parents just wanna say hi. Know who’s teaching their kid. Some of them know their kid won’t stay on top of their work, so they want to make sure they know all the players. You might get a hyper parent or two but,” Mack shrugged, clearly showing how much concern he thought such parents merited, “you just roll with it.”

“And come up with a system,” Hunter threw in as he settled onto his perch once more. “The system is absolutely key, mate.”

Fitz arched a brow in his direction, clearly dubious of his friend’s stance. “System?”

“Yeah, it’s like this. You and your mate - say, Mack for the purposes of this discussion - come up with a signal, something simple like tugging your ear, and then you use it to let them know when a parent is just going on too long. Then they come over and save you. You know, say that the principal is looking for you or that your department head needs something. Gets the parent to wrap up without making you look like a total arse.”

Fitz felt his eyes narrow as his friend spoke, somehow doubting that Hunter had ever done anything without looking at least somewhat like an arse.

“How often have y’ used this system o’ yours then?”

Hunter paused for a moment, slowly brought his bottle to his lips and muttered, “Honestly? Never. No one seeks out the gym coach, Fitzy. If you’re failing PE, there are larger issues at play,” before taking a large swig.

Bringing his own bottle to his lips, Fitz suppressed the urge to sigh. So much for the guidance of friends.

~*~

Not for the first time, Fitz found himself feeling agitated, uncertain if he wanted to loosen his tie for the umpteenth time or go back to actually trying to get work done before he had to report to the cafeteria. He’d never had this trouble in school when it came to focusing on unpleasant tasks, leaving him with the only logical conclusion: he was actually bloody nervous about meeting these parents. Dwelling on the realization would only make things that much worse, so he took the opportunity to clean up the coffee cups he’d left littering the workspace. If nothing else, it gave Fitz something to do with his hands other than tug at his slightly-dressier work clothes.

Crossing to the bin, he couldn’t help but glance up and out of his classroom window in the hope of catching a glimpse of Jemma. It had become such an ingrained habit for him that Fitz wasn’t sure he could curb the impulse even if he wanted to do so. And why would he? Every time he did, he was rewarded with the sight of his coworker. Even now, when he’d expected her to still be in the faculty lounge chatting with the other teachers, he could see Jemma bent over her own desk, apparently hard at work.

Fitz paused, taking full advantage of the fact that he didn’t have a classroom full of students ready to heckle him, and watched her more blatantly than he’d dare to do otherwise. The fading sun left Jemma bathed in a vibrant orange glow that made her look even more striking than she usually did. He allowing his gaze to linger on the curve of her cheek when he noticed her lips pull into a shy grin. Startled, Fitz looked up and locked eyes with Jemma, a flush instantly working its way up his neck and into his cheeks as he realized she had caught him staring at her. Trying to salvage the situation, he gave her a small fluttering of his fingers before turning back to his desk so he could at least pretend to be busy grading instead of being busy ogling his coworker.

Perching on the stool once more, Fitz pulled a pile of quizzes from his introductory physics course in front of him, picked up a green pen, and licked his lip in preparation to  _ finally  _ start when a soft knock at the door pulled his attention away.

Low and behold Jemma Simmons hovered in the doorway of his classroom, one fine-boned hand wrapped around the frame and the other clenched around the doorknob as she shifted her weight side to side. Fitz couldn’t say for sure, but she seemed slightly nervous although he had no idea why. She’d been through these nights before; if anyone should have been nervous, it should have been him. His eyes inadvertently caught on the hem of her dress as the royal purple material fluttered about her knees, and Fitz had to jerk his gaze upward.

“Jemma, hey,” he said, turning on the stool to face her. “What’s up?”

Correctly reading his greeting as tacit permission to enter, Jemma stepped over the threshold of his classroom, her grin widening as she came closer. Fitz had to coach himself to actually breathe as she came to a stop in front of him, the broad black expanse of his work surface between them. Jemma got comfortable, leaning onto her forearms to better see what he was working on, and despite all his mantras to not be a total wanker, Fitz couldn’t entirely resist the temptation to glance down at the now gaping neckline of her dress. He caught the edge of what looked to be a peach colored bra and quickly jerked his gaze upward to Jemma’s face.

Thankfully she was fully absorbed in reviewing the quizzes he’d been trying to mark and apparently hadn’t noticed where his gaze had wandered. Jemma wore an amused grin as she peered at the papers in front of him and Fitz found his own lips involuntarily curling upward.

“Wha’? Is there a typo? Did they totally bomb th’ answer?” Fitz ducked his head down and peered over the top of the page, trying to read upside down so he could puzzle out what she found so amusing. He didn’t realize how close he was until he tried to meet Jemma’s eyes once more, only to realize he was seeing the flecks of hazel and gold the made up her irises. Fitz did his best to fight off his involuntary blush as he slowly pulled back to his side of the desk. “Jus’ tell me I dinnae have t’ give them any free points. I’ll never live tha’ down.”

“No, Fitz, you should be fine on that count,” Jemma chuckled, her own cheeks flushing with her apparent amusement. “I was just thinking that some of these questions are quite clever… Although,” she leafed through the sheets, scanning answers, “some of their responses may make you question why you even bothered venturing into education.”

Fitz gave an exaggerated moan in response, simply for the pleasure of hearing her laugh again. “I suppose tha’s th’ thanks we get, hmm? There’s no winnin’ when you work in a school.” He reached to take the quizzes from her so he could get back to grading, only to find that Jemma wouldn’t let them go.

“I’ll help you,” she offered, leaning over further and peering around his desk. “Just give me the answer key.”

“Answer key?” Fitz blinked at her, clearly dumbfounded. “Wha’ answer key?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been grading without using answer keys this quarter.”

Jemma’s tone clearly relayed her shock at his grading methods, and Fitz found himself glancing down at his toes while he scratched the back of his neck.

“Er, uh, yeah. No answer keys for me. Is… Is tha’ bad?”

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma sighed, a bit dismayed but also clearly amused. “No  _ wonder  _ your grading is so difficult. It’s bad enough for lab assignments, where we have to read everything, but for things like quizzes, it’s a lot faster to just have a key on hand.”

Jemma picked up one of the student stools, dragged it around to his side of the desk, and pulled the quizzes in front of her. Fitz simply tried to not focus on the fact that she was close enough that he could smell the honeysuckle and jasmine perfume she was wearing. He opened his mouth to answer her, but before he could Jemma was looking up at him, a dazzling smile on her face.

“We have about an hour. Just stick with me, Fitz, and we’ll get you through all of this in no time.”

~*~

Fitz, who ordinarily couldn’t stand to be proven wrong by anyone, was more than happy to admit that Jemma had a point, at least where answer keys were concerned. After she helped him create a few of them, they had managed to tear through several piles of his grading until they had to report to the cafeteria for conferences.

They were seated by department and then alphabetically to make it easier for parents to find them, which unfortunately meant that Jemma wasn’t seated near him. Rather, she was seated a row behind him and a table over, meaning there was no way Fitz could even look back at her without it being entirely obvious.

He was in the middle of a meeting with Mr. Parks, trying to explain for the  _ fourth  _ time why he wouldn’t allow his daughter to redo a lab he’d caught her plagiarizing when he felt something hit him in the back, squarely between his shoulder blades. Fitz flinched, surprised more than actually hurt, but forced himself to maintain his focus on the conversation. It was likely just Hunter screwing around and trying to get him in trouble. Thankfully it didn’t happen again and he was able to rid himself of what he had a feeling was going to be a troublesome parent with relative ease.

Fitz turned around and looked down to see a small, triangle-shaped piece of paper on the floor behind him. His eyes cut around the cafeteria, looking for Hunter… Only to find the other man was on the opposite side of the room from him and looked to be involved in a rather serious round of discussions involving a parent, a student, and May. If the Vice Principal was standing over him like that, there was no way Hunter had risked throwing anything at him. Accomplished prankster or not, the man had enough common sense to want to live. Or at least Fitz thought he did.

Curious, the Scot turned the triangle around in his fingers, studying the folded bit of notebook paper. He began tugging at a corner, undoing the triangle and smoothing it flat on the table in front of him. There was a solitary line written there.

_ Drinks later? _

Fitz’ brow knit in confusion and he twisted in his seat trying to see who could have sent it. The writing was neat - too neat for Mack or Hunter, who would have just texted him anyway - and the only other people he really spoke to were Skye and Jemma. But Skye wasn’t at school which meant -

With absolutely no subtlety, he whipped around to look in her direction, his legs banging into the bench as he did so. Jemma was in the middle of a conversation with a parent, but Fitz saw her eyes flit over to him and could have sworn he saw the corners of her mouth tug up into the beginnings of a smile just after. Not wanting to lose his nerve he fumbled for a pen and quickly scrawled:

_ Sure. _

He folded the note quickly, following the creases Jemma had left in the paper as a guide before tucking in the final flap. Fitz glanced over his shoulder and saw that she was no longer speaking with a parent. Not wanting to waste an opportunity, he cocked his arm back and took aim, ready to send the note back to Jemma when suddenly a hand caught his wrist. Eyes going wide in surprise, Fitz cast a panicked look toward the owner of the hand.

Bobbi Morse was staring down at him, her expression downright wolfish.

“Passing notes, Mr. Fitz?”

There was an inscrutable gleam in her eye and Fitz wasn’t sure if she was about to gently rib him or tear him limb from limb. To hear Hunter tell it, it could really go either way. Feeling wholly unprepared to meet his Maker, he began to stammer out an excuse only to find that his words failed him completely when she began to unfold the note. Fitz was doing his best to will a parent to come up - or for the floor to swallow him whole, he wasn’t feeling particularly finicky at that point - when it got even worse.

“Hey, Fitz!” Hunter used his greeting to announce his arrival, flopping into the seat meant for parents. Instead of looking at the Scot, however, his eyes were focused on the bit of paper the dead had just finished unfolding. “What you got, Bob?”

Her blue eyes flashed dangerously at the informal greeting, and Fitz began to wonder just how badly running out of the cafeteria would ruin his reputation around the school.

“Nothing that concerns  _ you _ , Mr. Hunter.”

The dean’s tone had gone icy as she stared Hunter down, leaving Fitz with little else to do other than hope it would all end soon.

“Is that any way to greet me?”

Fitz’ presumption that his friend had at least a halfway decent sense of self-preservation went out the window as he spoke. No wonder Hunter had such problems when it came to his romantic entanglements. Fitz supposed he had no room to speak since every time he was anywhere near Jemma he turned into an awkward, bumbling teen, but even he knew enough to not antagonize the woman he was interested in. Hunter had apparently skipped that section of the dating manual.

“That depends,” Bobbi shot back, the note apparently forgotten, “on whether you enjoy gainful employment.”

“Bob, we’ve been over this, you need Coulson to approve canning me -”

“I think that’s enough.” The words, while quiet, were firm and brought all conversation at Fitz’ table to a halt. He had quickly learned that Melinda May was not someone to trifle with, and not even Hunter seemed keen to question her as she took Jemma’s note from Bobbi. “Mr. Hunter, return to your table. Parents may want to speak with you. Ms. Morse, you’re needed at the front of the cafeteria. Mr. Fitz…”

Fitz gulped as May watched him, wondering just how she’d find him wanting and what the consequences might be.

“Mrs. Montanez was impressed with you. She’s one of our most…  _ involved  _ parents. Good work.”

Fitz let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he watched the vice principal walk away. To his surprise, she drifted toward Jemma’s table and unless he needed his vision checked, Fitz could have sworn she left the rumpled note at the corner nearest Jemma’s elbow, the barest hint of a smile gracing the older woman’s lips.

Jemma glanced around the room, her hazel eyes meeting his briefly as she reached for the paper. His nerves were churning his stomach, but thanks a bit of impulsive bravery, Fitz forced himself to keep watching. The corners of her lips curled upward as her eyes scanned his one-word response, and she quickly snatched up a pen to scrawl a reply. He watched as she capped her pen and folded the sheet - which was honestly wrinkled beyond all repair - back into a tight triangle.

Catching his eye, Jemma gave him a little nod, balanced the triangle on one corner and gave it a hard flick. It turned end over end in what was a rather impressive arch before hitting his table and skidding to a halt just to the right of Fitz’ elbow. Giving up all pretense of playing it cool, he tore it open immediately.

_ Great! See you at McGee’s on Webster! _

Fitz read and reread the note, committing the name to memory before sending back his reply.

_ Perfect. First round’s on me. _

~*~

“That’s a load of rubbish. There’s no way Riggins said that, and why in the world would you believe I’d give  _ pot  _ to a student? I’d smoke it myself!”

“Maybe because I’ve had the dubious pleasure of spending more than five minutes in your company, Hunter.”

Fitz cautiously sipped his pint and glanced around the table to gauge the reaction of the others, and he was oddly validated to find that he wasn’t the only one that was slightly put off by Hunter and Bobbi’s peculiar brand of flirting. What he had hoped would be a chance to spend more time with Jemma had unfortunately become a group outing with Hunter, Bobbi, and Mack joining them for post-conference drinks. Fitz had been disappointed at first and had sulked through his first pint, until he realized that having the other three there took off some of the pressure. They could help him carry the conversation if nothing else, although Bobbi and Hunter seemed more intent on hashing out their latest round of drama than anything else.

Looking for an escape, Fitz downed the last of his ale and set the glass down a tad harder than necessary. “Another roun’?” he asked, seeing that most of his companions had finished their drinks. Without waiting for a response Fitz turned and headed to the bar, floating on the happy feeling of comradery and the promise of a late start at work in the morning.

“Fitz, wait!” Jemma’s voice halted his progress and he didn’t even try to keep the pleased smile off his face when she sidled up next to him. “I’ll help you carry.”

He relaxed against the polished oak bar top, his forearms taking most of his weight as he glanced at the woman standing next to him. With a few gin and tonics in her, the professional facade he had grown accustomed to had dropped away entirely. She was downright bubbly, quick to laugh and smile, and given the way she was leaning against him her sense of personal space had vanished, not that Fitz minded in the least. The warmth of her bare arm, even though the thin material of his button down, was comforting even while it caused butterflies to burst into life in his gut.

The bit of liquor he’d had made him feel loose, so Fitz wasn’t entirely surprised when he found himself starting a conversation with Jemma instead of waiting to follow her lead.

“So,” he began, pulling her attention away from the bartender’s eye, “wha’ d’ you think it’ll take for me t’ earn my way back int’ Bobbi’s good graces?”

Jemma tilted her head, a small smile gracing her lips. “Why wouldn’t you be in Bobbi’s good graces?”

“Y’ know,” Fitz pressed, “th’ note thing?”

Jemma chortled at that, startling Fitz a bit and catching the bartender’s attention. Taking advantage of the moment, he placed their drink order while Jemma caught her breath.

“Sorry, Fitz,” she apologized, her hand coming to rest on his forearm. “It’s just that Bobbi really isn’t as intense as she seems. Just don’t tell her I told you that.”

Fitz glanced back at their table to watch Bobbi. She had moved on from arguing with Hunter to talking to Mack, although he noticed she hadn’t moved away from the Englishman. She was still rather close to him, her body language relaxed as the conversation continued.

“So, her bite’s worse than her bark? Good t’ know.”

“She’s tough when she needs to be, like with the kids,” Jemma explained as she helped him load up a tray. “But as long as the faculty is doing what they should be, she doesn’t like to get involved. She’s not much for micromanaging.”

Fitz followed Jemma back to their colleagues, taking care not to spill as he set his burden down on the tabletop. “All righ’, drink up,” he commanded, not that it was necessary. Before the sentence had even passed his lips all of the drinks had been claimed, save his own pint. Handing the tray off to a passing waitress, Fitz tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Jemma out him to Bobbi.

“Bobbi, Fitz here thinks you don’t have a sense of humor.”

His eyes went wide as the attention of the entire table turned to him, horrified that he was going to need to explain his comments at the bar. “I jus’- tha’ is, I though’-”

“Relax, Turbo,” Mack’s warm voice broke through, his mirth still evident. “She works hard to come off like a hardass all the time. Don’t you, Barbara?”

Bobbi stuck her tongue out at Mack before turning to Fitz. “It’s easier to manage the parents if they think I don’t have a sense of humor. They like the drill sergeant vibe, you know?”

“Yeah, I can see tha’.”

“But,” Bobbie continued, “the nice thing is the kids freak out even more whenever I do break. Those days are always fun.”

“There’s one coming up,” Jemma chimed in, smiling against the rim of her glass.

“That’s right, Halloween’s around the corner!”

Fitz groaned a bit as realization dawned on him. “Le’ me guess… th’ faculty gets in on th’ dressin’ up, too?” In his bid to get Jemma’s attention during Homecoming week, he’d perhaps spent a bit more than planned on his outfits for dress up days; he had a feeling October 31st wouldn’t be any kinder to his checking account.

“Of course!”

“Naturally.”

“What the bloody hell else are we supposed to do to entertain ourselves?”

Jemma was so clearly enthused by the idea that Fitz immediately gave up on the idea of being grouchy about having to find a costume. Not like a few more weeks of ramen would do any damage. He hoped.  

“Bobbi has the  _ best  _ costumes,” Jemma gushed, setting aside her glass. “The G.I. Joe costume was  _ spectacular- _ ”

“What about Wonder Woman?” Bobbi suggested. “That one was a favorite of mine.”

Hunter, who’d gone dreamy-eyed, sighed. “Yeah, that was a good year.”

“ _ Gross _ , Hunter.” Bobbi rolled her eyes as she pushed at his shoulder. “It wasn’t even like that. I had a nude shirt beneath the corset.”

“Was still good enough for me.”

Without saying anything Mack reached out and slapped Hunter upside the head, effectively cutting off further commentary. Bobbi scooted closer to Jemma and carried the conversation on as though Hunter hadn’t said anything.

“I like Halloween, but it’s really the Science Department who nails it every year.” She nudged Jemma with her shoulder while giving Fitz a mischievous look. “Have you guys picked the department costume yet?”

_ Departmen’ costume? _

No one had breathed a word about a department costume to him, and Fitz found himself worried that Jemma’s reaching out to him this week had only been motivated by getting him on board with whatever undoubtedly embarrassing getup they’d want him to wear. Their chair seemed like the kind who’d want to give the new guy a hard time after all.

“Well…” Jemma gave a small shrug. “Before Fitz was hired, we’d wanted to do Disney princesses, you know, play up the fact that we were an all-female department…”

_ Oh Chris’, please dinnae ask me t’ dress in drag. They’ll never le’ me hear th’ end o’ it. _

Although, the sad truth was that if Jemma asked him to dress as a princess, he’d gladly don a wig and dress. He was such a sucker.

“... but now, we were hoping to dress as Gru and the Minions.”

Jemma turned her wide, hazel eyes on him and Fitz was utterly lost. Before he could think about it, he found himself nodding his agreement. And just as he’d suspected, the wide grin he’d received from her would have made even dressing as a woman well worth it.

Not that he was above using the situation to is advantage.

He managed to muster up the courage to ask her for her number under the thinly veiled guise of needing her help with the costume, and before long he was texting her nearly as often as he texted Mack, Hunter, or even Skye.  

Fitz still gave her a hard time about the costume all the way up to October 31st, and even used it as an excuse to pull her into every potential yearbook and social media like-and-retweet-bait photo his students insisted on taking of him.

And if he managed to convince her to take a selfie or two as an excuse to get his arm around her shoulders, well… Fitz wasn’t above that, either.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how tempted I was to dress Fitz as Merida... but even I'm not that cruel.


	4. November

“Jemma…  _ Jemma _ .”

 

Engrossed in her phone, Jemma didn’t hear Daisy calling her. She was too busy thumbing through the quickly-growing text thread between her and Fitz. There was a niggling part of her that said she should be more restrained - she taught teens, but wasn’t one herself - but the warmth that flooded her body every time she read through the messages kept her coming back. 

 

It wasn’t as though the conversation was started with the intention of being flirtatious. Fitz had merely wanted to send her a photo of them in their Halloween costumes. That had left the door open to exchange bits of gossip about their colleagues and students, as well as the occasional science meme or offer to pick up lunch. They were becoming friends, and as much as Jemma enjoyed that, the fact was that she wasn’t particularly interested in making a new friend. 

 

At least, not the strictly platonic kind. 

 

Jemma had begun a mental tally of her interactions with Fitz during the prior week, picking through each one to try to determine whether she should just throw up her hands and give up or force him into a closet for a quick snog when her train of thought was rudely interrupted by a soft  _ plop _ . A lone, puffy kernel floated in the bowl of her wine glass. 

 

Shooting an annoyed look at Daisy, Jemma reached in and fished the offending bit of food out. “You know, I don’t think this is what the sommelier meant when he said this chardonnay had ‘buttery notes.’” 

 

Looking thoroughly unintimidated - much to Jemma’s chagrin - Daisy merely stuck her tongue out at her and took a sip of her own wine.

 

“In her defense,” Bobbi chimed in, “she  _ had  _ been calling your name. You just weren’t listening.” 

 

Jemma felt her eyes narrow involuntarily.  

 

“Traitor.”

 

The blonde merely shrugged, tugging the bowl of popcorn and taking a handful of the kernels for herself. 

 

“She’s going through her phone again. Must be waiting for a new message from  _ Fitz _ .”

 

Daisy drew out his name, clearly trying to get a rise out of Jemma. And, although she would never admit it, the ploy was working. She felt her belly swoop and her cheeks warm just at the mention of his name. 

 

“Oh hush, I am not.”

 

Realizing that there wasn’t much more she could say without further incriminating herself, Jemma settled for taking a large sip - more of a gulp, really - of her wine. At least that way she had a reason other than thinking about Leo Fitz (and his eyes, his hands, his stubble, his mouth) to explain why she felt so bloody warm. 

 

“Really?” Bobbi challenged. “Your two closest friends are right here with you. Who exactly are you waiting on?”

 

“At this point, Daisy. How long does it take to settle on a show, exactly?”

 

The other woman shot her a knowing look. Of course her friends would realize she was deflecting the conversation. Hopefully they’d let her get away with it this time, or Jemma would have to seriously reconsider their bi-weekly girls’ nights. 

 

“Relax, Simmons, the rest of the season is downloading. Unless you want to be stuck on a shirtless Jamie Fraser while we wait for the file to catch up… Wait.” Daisy’s mouth took a devious twist upward. “That actually sounds  _ exactly  _ like what we want.”

 

“Daisy,” Bobbi chided without any heat as she rolled her eyes. “You have a boyfriend.”

 

“Oh, please. I’m allowed to look. Just not touch.”

 

With the attention off her, Jemma took the opportunity to slide her phone into her back pocket, out of sight so she wouldn’t catch anymore grief, but near enough that she’d feel it if he messaged. Just in case. Reaching for her wine, Jemma tuned back into her friends’ conversation. 

 

“So, holiday plans?” Daisy asked, clearly fishing. 

 

Jemma felt herself brace; the last time Daisy had asked about the holidays in that tone, Jemma had been the one who had ended up slaving away in the kitchen while her friends had watched American football and gotten buzzed on twenty different varieties of pumpkin beer. That was no how she intended to spend this holiday. 

 

“Keeping put,” Bobbi said with a too-casual shrug. “Cross-country tickets are just too expensive for a four-day trip, you know?”

 

Jemma nodded sympathetically. “If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to get back to England again in the summer. That is, so long as I don’t get roped back into working summer school. Again.” 

 

Teaching chemistry during the school year, when students were at least resigned to having to be indoors, was difficult enough. Getting them to make up the work when all they wanted to do was be on a beach or sleeping in was an absolute nightmare. 

 

“Does that mean you’d both be up for Friendsgiving?” 

 

The sly tone in Daisy’s question set Jemma on edge, and while Bobbi rushed to agree, she held back. She had conditions if she were going to show up for “Friendsgiving.” If they weren’t met, she’d be perfectly content to order Chinese and binge watch everything she’d been missing on Netflix. 

 

“Do I have to host?”

 

“Nope,” Daisy answered, deliberately popping the last syllable and causing Jemma’s eyes to narrow. Her friend had been a bit too quick with her response and Daisy’s face was never that naturally neutral. “Trip agreed to host. He said he’ll handle the turkey and dessert. All he asks is that everyone brings a side dish and some booze.”

 

So that was it. Jemma hadn’t had nearly enough to drink to not put the pieces together. She knew exactly what Trip’s hosting Friendsgiving meant and why Daisy was trying so hard to appear nonchalant. Jemma felt a tingle run down her shoulders and did her best to tell herself it was the wine working its magic, and not the thought of spending an entire day outside of work with Fitz. In his apartment. 

 

Jemma pretended to weigh her options for a moment, looking back and forth between Bobbi and Daisy, both of whom were watching her expectantly. 

 

“All right,” she conceded, “tell Trip he can expect at least one more.”

 

~*~

 

Juggling a green bean casserole and two bottles of wine while simultaneously trying to knock on a door, Jemma found herself reconsidering her decision to participate in Friendsgiving. She could have been tucked into her sofa, still in her pajamas and reading if she’d turned down Daisy’s offer. Instead, she had taken the time to style her hair and pull on a pair of skinny jeans and loose jumper that flattered her without making it look like she’d tried  _ too  _ hard. 

 

Mentally rehearsing the appropriate topics of conversation she’d drawn up the night before - something that had caused more than a bit of gentle teasing from both Daisy and Bobbi - Jemma gathered herself and managed to rap her knuckles against the dark wooden door. It swung open to reveal Daisy, dressed casually in leggings and an oversized sweater, beer bottle dangling from her fingers. 

 

“Hey, Jemma. Come on in.” She stepped back to let Jemma cross the threshold, nodding in the general direction of the kitchen. “Drop your stuff off in there. Grab a beer if you want.”

 

Making a soft noise of acknowledgement, Jemma stepped around her friend and ducked to her right, picking her way over the shoes piled next to the door as he followed Daisy’s directions. She could hear the television playing in the other room, and her brief glimpse into the apartment revealed both Bobbi and Hunter sitting all too closely on the sofa. Not wanting to catch sight of something she would never be able to unsee, Jemma hurried along to the promised safety of the kitchen. 

 

Whatever she’d been expecting when she walked into the kitchen, but Leo Fitz in an apron emblazoned with a bold “Fe,” flour streaked across his cheek as he muttered curses under his breath was  _ not  _ it… Although, she certainly wasn’t complaining by any stretch of the imagination, either. 

 

“Hi, Fitz.” 

 

He looked mildly shocked to see her standing in his kitchen, and Jemma gave him her brightest smile. It took him a few tries, his jaw bobbing up and down as she found a clear space on the counter for her things, before he managed to get his tongue working. 

 

“Oh, hey, Jemma-”

 

“Jemma! Hey, girl, c’mere!”

 

With a small surprised shriek, Jemma found herself briefly lifted off the ground. As soon as her feet hit the tile she twirled to find Trip - Daisy’s boyfriend and Fitz’ roommate - grinning down at her. 

 

“Trip! Happy Thanksgiving! Thank you for having me.”

 

As always, his winning smile was contagious, and Jemma found herself rocking along with him as Trip gave her a proper hug.  

 

“Of course. Like I would refuse to invite my favorite Brit over for the holiday.”

 

“Oi! I thought I was your favorite!” Fitz interjected as he picked up Jemma’s casserole and slid it into the oven to keep warm.

 

“You would be,” Trip sniped back as he pulled a corkscrew from a draw and pulled down two wine glasses, “if I wasn’t subjected to the sight of your messy-ass room on a daily basis. I shouldn’t know the color of your drawers,  _ mate _ .”

 

Jemma watched the exchange, a small smile playing across her lips and her brow arching involuntarily. As comfortable as she and Fitz had become with each other, the fact of the matter was that there was always a thin veneer of professionalism between them. It was nice to see him relaxed in his own space, and she found herself wanting to inch closer to him. She was set to do just that, her mouth opening to ask if he’d like a hand in the kitchen, when Trip suddenly scooped up a bottle of wine and glasses before herding her out of the kitchen. 

 

She had just enough time to toss Fitz an apologetic smile and shrug on her way out, which was all Jemma needed to catch the odd look that crossed his face as Trip led her away. 

 

~*~

 

“Wait, wait, wait, that makes no bloody sense at all!” Hunter exclaimed, thunking his beer bottle down onto the table. “They’re meant to shove the other guys with their hands, but if they use their hands  _ too  _ much, they get in trouble for it?!”

 

“Yes, Hunter,” Bobbi answered with a barely-suppressed eye roll. “That’s holding and not allowed, hence the yellow flag.”

 

Hunter looked ready to protest further, but warning looks from the Americans in the room quickly silenced him. Instead he merely reached for his beer and wedged himself further into the cushions, muttering about the stupidity of American sports. 

 

Privately, Jemma agreed. Football - or what was known as football here - made no sense to her. She could at least follow an  _ actual  _ football match; there was a flow to the game. What they were watching was nothing but stop and go action that made it difficult for her to concentrate, something that wasn’t helped by the fact that she didn’t understand any of the strategy, either. 

 

Her gaze wandered from the TV to light on Fitz, sitting slouched in a plush armchair. At first glance he seemed to be focused on the television, but his bouncing knee was a dead giveaway that he wasn’t really interested in the game. Something was off with him, but she wasn’t quite sure what. Jemma had spent more time than she’d ever admit during dinner observing him, and Fitz simply wasn’t as  _ loose  _ as he seemed to be at school. 

 

He hadn’t bothered to talk to her much, either, something that left her feeling more than a little slighted. With how things had been going at work and with their texting, Jemma had expected a little more individual attention from Fitz, but perhaps that had been wishful thinking. Regardless, the fact was that he had spent more time speaking with all of their friends - even Bobbi, who Daisy swore Fitz was still a little afraid of - more than her. 

 

Still, she had never been one to quit, so Jemma spent the first part of the match trying to catch his eye, but every time she thought he’d look her way Fitz would take a pull of his beer or start in on Hunter. She was just about ready to give up on the endeavor entirely when Fitz abruptly stood during a commercial break and muttered something about cleaning up and getting dessert out, presenting Jemma with a perfect opportunity. 

 

“I’ll help!”

 

Jemma sprang up from her seat on the sofa, pointedly ignoring the knowing look Daisy and Bobbi were sharing as she trailed after Fitz into the kitchen. 

 

“What can I do?” she asked coming to a halt next to him at the kitchen sink. 

 

Flushing a gentle pink, Fitz scratched the back of his neck and looked between the dishes in the sink and her. “Y’ really dinnae need t’ help, Jemma. I mean, you’re a gues’… my mum would be livid if she knew I had a gues’ cleanin’ up a mess I made.” 

 

“Nonsense,” Jemma insisted, undeterred by his gentle refusal. “I’ll lose my mind if I have to listen to Hunter and Bobbi any more. Besides, I don’t much care to watch American football anyway.” She gave Fitz a smile and glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. “I’d really rather be in here.”

 

Fitz’ tongue darted out to wet his lips before returning her smile. “All righ’. Who am I t’ refuse a lady?” He reached beneath the sink and produced a pair of orange rubber gloves. “You wash and I’ll dry?”

 

Jemma agreed, quickly pulling on the gloves and getting the water running. Once she judged it hot enough for her liking, she began to wade her way through the mountain of pots, pans, and dishes that had been so unceremoniously dumped in the sink.

 

“Chris’!” Fitz exclaimed as she handed him the first pan. “How do y’ manage t’ wash with water tha’ hot?” He held up a pinked palm to demonstrate his point before giving it a little shake. 

 

Jemma shrugged. “The hotter the water, the better. Less grease, less germs, cleaner everything.”

 

“Jus’ don’t burn yourself, yeah? I’d hate t’ have t’ explain t’ Bobbi why she needs t’ rush you into urgent care on a holiday.”

 

There was a hint of a smile playing about the corners of his lips, so Jemma let the jibe slide. They fell into companionable chatter, talking about their work, their friends, and their respective plans for the rest of the long weekend (sleeping and maybe grading, in that order) as they worked, but Jemma felt that there was still something off. There was something about the way Fitz was too quick to fill the silences that clued Jemma in. 

 

“So… how long have y’ known Trip?”

 

_ There it is _ , Jemma thought, starting on the roasting pan. She had known Fitz was trying to work his way up to something. It also explained the look he’d given Daisy’s boyfriend when he’d towed her out of the kitchen. 

 

“I’ve known Daisy since I started working at Crestwood,” she answered, focusing on scrubbing out the bottom to keep her from rolling her eyes. Men could be so obvious at times. “I’ve only known Trip for as long as they’ve dated.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

Fitz looked abashed at her answer, but Jemma couldn’t help teasing him a bit more. She felt good, relaxed after a fantastic meal and just enough wine, and was willing to go with the flow. 

 

“Oh? Is that all? What exactly were you expecting me to say, Fitz?”

 

“I jus’ though’- maybe y’ had known him before -”

 

Jemma gave the pan a final rinse and handed it to Fitz, turning off the water and stripping off her gloves and laying them over the metal edge of the sink before turning to face him. With one hip propped on the counter, she was able to strike what she hoped was an intimidating enough pose. 

 

“Does Daisy strike you as the type to date a friend’s ex?” Jemma asked, raising a brow to drive her point home. 

 

Fitz laughed outright at that, setting the cumbersome pan on the stove top before coming back to where she stood. Jemma was pleased to see that he mirrored her position, and he had come back to stand only a few inches from her, close enough for her see the different shades of blue that speckled his irises and smell the faintest whiff of what must have been his cologne. Her heart jumped into her throat as her mind began to race with the possibilities. 

 

“No, no she’s a lot o’ things, but willin’ t’ date a friend’s ex isnae one o’ them. She puts too much stock in bein’ firs’.”

 

“Very, very true,” she answered, breaking her more assertive posture for a more relaxed one. The result was that she found herself leaning even further into Fitz, despite it being seemingly impossible to do so.

 

Jemma caught Fitz’ eyes flicking downward to catch on her mouth and she inched closer without truly realizing what was happening. Apparently all he had needed to know was that she’d never been interested in Trip to return to the more flirtatious version of himself she’d come to know, and Jemma was more than willing to oblige him. 

 

“Fitz?” Jemma whispered, pushing the slightest bit up onto her toes and bringing her mouth within distance of his. 

 

“Yeah?” His voice had taken on a slightly rough quality that made shivers run up and down her spine. 

 

“Would you-”

 

“Oi, Fitzy!” 

 

Hunter’s shout sent the pair spinning apart, trying to put distance between them before their friend could see anything.  _ Not that there was anything to actually see _ , Jemma thought with more than a bit of frustration.

 

“Sorry… am I interrupting?” The question was a loaded one, and Hunter knew it, given the sly look in his eye. It took all of Jemma’s willpower to not throttle him then and there. She wondered, briefly, how Bobbi managed it at all. “I just needed another beer is all.”

 

“No, not at all-”

 

“Help yourself, Hunter.”

 

“-we just finished cleaning.”

 

Hunter cocked his head and looked between the two as a grin began to form on his face. Unwilling to have Hunter take the piss out of either of them, Jemma bolted for the doorway. 

 

“I’d better get back  - I’d hate to miss the second half.”

 

“Oh, sure. You being such a great fan of American football.” Hunter gave her a look that clearly stated he didn’t believe a word she’d said, although he left it at that. As soon as she cleared the threshold, she heard him exclaim in a stage whisper, “Way to go, mate! See, you didn’t even need the mistletoe I brought!”

 

Too embarrassed to wait to hear Fitz’ answer, Jemma darted for her space on the sofa between Bobbi and Daisy and planted herself there, eyes glued to the TV. But in truth, she didn’t see a thing on the screen; she was far too busy compiling a list of the ways she could make Hunter’s life an absolute hell between now and the beginning of winter break. 


	5. December

The Monday after Thanksgiving found Fitz skidding to a stop just inside the school doors, the soles of his dress shoes slick with half-frozen slush. He managed to slide around a windmilling sophomore and pulled his scarf from around his neck, taking a deep breath as he did so. Juggling his bag, lunch, and various winter paraphernalia, Fitz dug into his pocket for his room keys only to freeze in his tracks a moment later. 

 

“Oh,  _ bloody hell _ .”

 

Clumps of obnoxiously green leaves dotted with waxy white berries and adorned with festive, red velvet ribbon were strung all along the drop ceiling. Unlike most of the Student Council holiday decorations, these didn’t stretch the length of the hall; rather, they had been deliberately strung between his door and Jemma’s, a giant, festive declaration that someone wanted the pair to partake in what was the most embarrassing of holiday traditions.

 

Taken aback as he was, it took Fitz a good moment to unlock his classroom door. The room was lit already, revealing the culprit, a wiry 17 year old who, with his tongue peeking out, was doing his best to hang the last sprig of mistletoe without upending the chair he was using as a stepstool. Fitz considered the scene before him, briefly contemplated that he knew just which of the legs he needed to nudge to bring the whole operation to a screeching halt, but ultimately resisted the urge. 

 

“Mr. Murray,” he growled out in his best teacher voice, which he noticed with pleasure caused the young man to jump, “explain.”

 

“Uh, well, you see,” he began, stumbling over his explanation as he scrambled down from the chair, “Mr. Hunter promised me extra credit.”

 

“Wait…  _ Hunter  _ promised you extra credit?” Fitz felt as though his brain were moving too slowly, and desperately wished he’d stopped for coffee before coming in today. “He teaches PE… you ge’ credit jus’ for dressin’, righ’?”

 

“Yeah, but-”

 

“So why in th’ world d’ you need extra credit for tha’?”

 

“-he promised me extra credit in  _ your  _ class.”

 

Fitz felt his jaw go slack, but found he couldn’t do anything about it. While he had no doubt that Hunter would promise a student extra credit in a class he didn’t teach to get his way, he couldn’t believe that a student would buy it; although, considering James Murray’s grade in physics, Fitz couldn’t blame the kid for trying. Nor was it that surprising that he fell for Hunter’s story. Suspicion creeping its way up his spine, Fitz glanced out his open door, eyed the mistletoe leading across the hall, and down to Jemma’s locked door. 

 

The lights were on over there, too. 

 

“James, where  _ is  _ Mr. Hunter?”

 

The boy went red under Fitz’ scrutiny and he seemed unduly fascinated by the tiling, but managed to squeak out, “Uh, he and Ms. Johnson are across the hall.”

 

“Oh,” Fitz growled, feeling his eyes narrow, “Mr. Hunter  _ and  _ Ms. Johnson, is it? Thank you, James. Clean this up before the first bell, and I’ll double the extra credit you were offered.”

 

“ _ Fifty _ points? That’s  _ awesome _ , Mr. Fitz! Thank you!” 

 

Before Fitz could temper the boy’s expectations, James Murray was on top of the same rickety chair and pulling mistletoe from the drop ceiling at a truly impressive rate. Ultimately, Fitz left him to it; after all, if the boy was going to risk life and limb in the process, the least he could do was give him a shot at a B for the semester. 

 

Dodging a group of freshman girls clutching red cups of coffee and snapping selfies, Fitz tore into Jemma’s classroom fully prepared to murder one, if not both, of his friends. The consequences of that were certainly preferable to embarrassing both him and the woman he fancied in front of all of their students. Gossip moved quickly enough in a school; anything that happened before the bell, when phones were out and Snapchat still fully accessible, meant everyone would know about it well before classes even began. 

 

“ _ Wha’ in the hell  _ d’ you two think you’re doin’?!”

 

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Fitzy,” Skye replied, all too cheerily for his liking and without even skipping a beat in her decorating. Clearly his intimidation tactics needed some work. “We’re just spreading the holiday spirit!”

 

“That is not wha’ you’re doin’! Wha’ you’re doin’ is tryin’ t’ embarrass me-”   
  


“No, what we’re doing,” Hunter interjected, hopping down off a lab table, “is trying to get you across the finish line.” He reached up a hand to help Skye down from a neighboring table and stopped to survey their work. “Not too shabby, huh?”

 

“We did all right,” Skye agreed, “but I think we need more by the door. They’re always chatting by the door.”

 

To Fitz’ horror, she grabbed another bunch of mistletoe-laden garland and began molding it along the doorway. Glancing down at his watch, Fitz felt his gut turn to lead. Jemma would be in the building in mere minutes and he found himself wondering if his time would be spent more productively taking down decorations or digging his own shallow grave. 

 

“Skye, please, dinnae do tha’-”

 

“Fitz,” she said firmly, setting the decorations to the side and facing him. There was no hint of any kind of teasing in her eyes, and Fitz was a bit disquieted by that. In the few years he had known her, he’d never known Daisy “Skye” Johnson to look this earnest. It gave him pause, to say the least. “Hunter told me about Thanksgiving.”

 

“Wha’ are you talkin’ about?”

 

“The kitchen, Fitz. I told her about what I walked in on.”

 

All too aware that they were standing directly in the doorway where any and all of the students passing by could hear their conversation, Fitz pitched his voice low. “Y’ dinnae walk in on anythin’.”

 

“And that’s the problem. Look, Fitz, it’s clear that this girl likes you.”

 

“Please, Jemma doesnae-”

 

“Look here! See, May, I told you our staff would have no problem getting into the holiday spirit!”   
  


Fitz felt as though the floor had dropped from beneath him as he watched both Hunter and Daisy’s faces break into toothy grins. It was official, the cosmos hated him. All he needed now was Jemma walking in on Coulson congratulating them on their willingness to deck the halls right before finals. 

 

“They seem to have a problem with spacing,” May observed, casting a significant look at the ceiling before directing it toward his colleagues. 

 

“True,” Coulson murmured, looking up and down the hall. “The other end does seem a little light-”

 

“We can fix that!” Skye chipped in, practically radiating holiday spirit as she held up the five shopping bags with the spare garland. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, we’d be happy to, boss-man. Just tell us where you want it.” 

 

Hunter being Hunter, he was unable to resist waggling his eyebrows in Fitz’ direction, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Coulson. Nor was the principal oblivious to the young couples who had begun to stop in the science hallway and had decided to take advantage of the holiday decorations to get in some quality PDA before class. A single annoyed look sent May into action, and she calmly and efficiently began separating couples and sending them on their way. 

 

“Daisy, Hunter, Fitz, I love the enthusiasm - I really do - just do me a favor and tone it down in front of the kids, all right? Maybe swap out the mistletoe for some holly, yeah? The last thing I need right before the semester ends is a flood of parent phone calls about why are we encouraging kids to hook up in the hallway.”

 

May’s attention was momentarily pulled from the students she was terrorizing to arch an eyebrow at Coulson. “The calls  _ you’ll _ be receiving?”

 

“The calls May will be receiving,” Coulson amended with a sheepish look at his assistant principal. “Let’s keep May happy, all right?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Skye answered, deflating a bit. “Whatever you say, Phil.”

 

With that the principal swept out of the hallway, taking May with him, although not before she could give the three of them one last knowing look. Fitz paused to shudder at the mere possibility that Melinda May could read his mind before turning once more on his so-called friends. 

 

“Tha’s it, you heard him, take i’ down. Take i’  _ all  _ down.”

 

“Hmm, I think not.”

 

“ _ Wha’ _ ?” Fitz spluttered. “He jus’ said-”

 

“Our fearless leader asked us to tone it down, Fitzy, not take it down.” Skye was back to grinning now, thoroughly pleased that she and Hunter had a loophole to exploit. “Besides, now you and Jemma-”

 

“Keep your voice down,” Fitz admonished, looking around the hall to be sure none of the nosier students who were waiting for either his or Jemma’s class had overheard. 

 

“- might actually seal the deal and leave the rest of us in peace.”

 

“Enough!” Fitz’ exclamation was enough to draw the attention of the students lined up against the lockers, but he was past the point of caring. “Enough with you tryin’ t’ get us t’ hook up or whatever i’ is y’ wan’. Y’ know wha’ I wan’? Friends who dinnae meddle, for starters. I wan’ t’ survive the nex’ three weeks without havin’ a student burst int’ tears in the middle o’ lecture or a parent callin’ t’ complain about the lack o’ study guide for th’ final. I wan’ t’ actually  _ survive  _ finals, in all honesty, but mostly,” Fitz reached up and began jumping up to pull down sprigs as he spoke to illustrate his point, flinging them to the floor as he went, “I wan’ these damn things down!”

 

“Oh, but it’s so festive!” 

 

He froze mid-reach and turned toward the voice, knowing damn well that his worst case scenario had just come true. In fact, it was much worse. There was Jemma Simmons, looking for all the world like a literal snow angel in her dark, snow-dusted peacoat, a few stubborn flakes still clinging to the ends of her hair as she slowed down to admire the decorations. 

 

Suddenly, Fitz didn’t find the mistletoe such a foolish tradition. 

 

Willing the exertion-induced flush he could feel in his cheeks to subside, Fitz gave her what he hoped was a casual smile and nod as they watched her drop her things off on her desk before coming back into the hallway. 

 

“You know,” Skye began, giving Fitz a sly look he didn’t care for the in least, “there’s a tradition involved with mistletoe…”

 

“Skye,” Fitz growled in warning, only to be soundly ignored as Hunter picked up the slack. 

 

“Yeah. A quick kiss, just to spread a bit of holiday cheer.”

 

“Is there a term for sexual harassmen’ when you’re no’ an active participant?”

 

“Yes, I believe it’s called ‘peer pressure.’ I hear all the cool kids are doing it.”

 

Jemma smirked at Fitz and leaned against her doorframe. She seemed content to ignore Skye and Hunter to banter with him alone, and he was more than happy to go along with it. 

 

“Tha’ explains it then. Never been a cool kid. No wonder I havenae heard o’ it.” He tossed her a quick wink as the warning bell rang. “All righ’” Fitz called, directing his words towards the students dawdling in the hall, “time t’ move! Get goin’, dinnae be late!”

 

The kids grumbled as they streamed around them, disappointed that there would be no free show at his and Jemma’s expense and therefore nothing truly interesting to talk about until lunch time when the rest of the day’s gossip caught up to them. The four adults watched the students disperse, instinctively drawing together near Fitz’ classroom to keep out of the traffic the clogged the center of the hall. 

 

“Fitz, are you ready for finals?” Jemma asked, hazel eyes earnest as she looked up at him as Skye and Hunter looked on. He could feel their eyes darting between the two of them, and Fitz wondered if this is what it felt like to be at the center of a tennis match.

 

“Uh, honestly, no. ‘m not ready at all. I mean’ t’ prep over break, but,” he gave a bashful shrug, “I never go’ around t’ it.”   
  


“I didn’t either. I was planning on hanging around Wednesday to go through my notes and get started. I’d be happy to help you with yours, if you’ll be around.”

 

“Oh, I- I already have plans on Wednesday,” Fitz replied, hating himself a little when he saw the disappointment that flitted across Jemma’s face. “I asked Mack t’ get me somethin’ for my car. Wednesday’s th’ only time we both had for me t’ come in and install it.”

 

“All right then.” As quickly as it had come on, the disappointment faded from her expression and Jemma gave him another dazzling smile as she went into her room. Pausing at the threshold, she glanced back over her shoulder at him and added, “If you need help, you know where to find me.”

 

Fitz stood frozen for a moment, just watching Jemma greet the students who had already entered her classroom. Unless he was terribly mistaken, she’d just asked to spend time alone with him, and like an idiot, he’d said no. That fact hadn’t escaped Hunter or Skye, either; she slapped him in the shoulder and called him a moron before stalking off to her computer lab. 

 

“Fitz, you’re a nice guy, mate,” Hunter told him as he clapped him on the back in as sympathetic manner as he could managed, “but with instincts like that, I’m not sure you’re actually meant to get laid.”

 

~*~

 

“Fitz, you ready for lunch?”

 

He nodded as he looked up from the syllabi he had pulled up on his laptop and quickly slid off his stool. Jemma had suggested he start by looking at those when trying to write his finals, as well as pulling from old tests, but he was still feeling lost. A quick bite would set him to rights, or so he hoped. 

 

“I need t’ swing through th’ line today,” he admitted as he locked his classroom behind him. “I forgot t’ grab my lunch this morning.”

 

“That’s fine, man,” Mack agreed, automatically redirecting them to head toward the front of the cafeteria instead of the faculty lounge, which was tucked behind it. “It’s likely as healthy as anything you’d bring with, anyway.”

 

“Hey!” Fitz protested. “I’s no’ my fault tha’ my metabolism keeps me svelte.”

 

“Svelte, and primed for a heart attack,” his friend retorted. They went a bit further in silence before he spoke again. “Hey, you still looking for engineering gigs?”

 

That startled Fitz. Other than a few mentions in passing, he and Mack hadn’t spoken much about his desire to eventually leave Crestwood; he hadn’t even had much of a chance to start a job search, given how busy he was with grading, lesson planning, and now preparing for his finals. The topic also made him feel oddly guilty, almost like he was betraying Skye after she put in a good word for him with Coulson and got him the job. But surely she would understand him wanting to work in the job he was ultimately trained to do. Right?

 

“Uh, I havenae really started, t’ be honest, bu’ yeah, I’m interested in lookin’. Why?”

 

“My brother just started working the line at the car plant down on the southside. I know you don’t want to work a line somewhere, but he says they’re looking for design engineers, too. You want the info?”

 

“Yeah, send it t’ me. Wai’, wha’s this?” 

 

A tabled manned by four students and piled high with bags of candy had caught his attention, and Fitz veered out of line for a closer look. He picked up one of the holiday-themed cellophane bags and examined it, grinning as he realized it was Christmas candy. Well, Christmas candy and Hanukkah gelt and mini chocolate bars emblazoned with “Joyous Kwanzaa.” 

 

“Wanna buy a candy gram, Mr. Fitz?” asked the small girl behind the table, smiling up at him from behind what must be the thickets glasses Fitz had ever seen. He grinned back reflexively, both in response to her and the promise of so many sweets in one place. 

 

“A wha’?”

 

“Candy gram,” Mack answered for the girl, picking up a bag and giving it a quick toss in front of him before setting it back down. “You can send them to people for a few bucks, and the extra cash goes to charity. Where is it going this year, Beckie?”

 

“Ronald McDonald House,” the girl answered promptly, grinning. “$1 for a candy cane, $3 for a small variety bag, $5 for a large one.”

 

“I wonder…” Fitz began, but caught himself before he could ponder buying a bag for Jemma aloud. He’d had lunch with her often enough to know she typically preferred to eat more nutritious things than processed chocolate, but in the spirit of the holiday, maybe she’d appreciate it. Or at least take it to mean he hadn’t actually wanted to blow her off Wednesday.

 

“No need to tell anyone what you’re wondering, Turbo.” Mack tone was teasing, but the smile curling his lips was kind. “Don’t most women like chocolate?”

 

“I always thought so, bu’ then again, she’s an odd bird.” He gave Beckie a regretful smile, set the candy down, and took a half step back. “Better no’ take the risk.”

 

“You sure?”

 

Fitz hesitated a moment before giving himself a small shake and directing himself back toward the lunch lines. “Yeah, ‘m sure. No need t’ shoot myself in th’ foot. Again.”

 

But the idea kept tugging at Fitz, sitting there in the back of his brain while he tried to keep up his end of the conversation with Mack. Even as they talked about the other improvements he eventually hoped to make to his Mustang, he found his mind wandering back to the table outside the cafeteria. Once they’d both finished their meals and he bid Mack goodbye outside the garage doors, Fitz wandered back toward the lunch room. 

 

“Change your mind, Mr. Fitz?”

 

“Yeah, Beckie, I have.” Fitz pulled out a twenty dollar bill. “Four o’ the large bags, please.”

 

She pulled his order to the side and slid four bell-shaped tags his way, along with a permanent marker. Fitz carefully wrote his friends’ names, his lettering automatically defaulting to the neat block print he was so used to using on blueprints, when things needed to be legible. He paused before signing his name, though, and glanced up at Beckie, whose expression could only be described as expectant. As soon as he walked away, Fitz just knew she’d be texting all of her friends to tell them that he’d bought candy grams for Mr. Hunter, Mr. Mackenzie, Ms. Johnson, but most importantly, Ms. Simmons as well. 

 

“Uh, d’ ye need me t’ put my name on these?”

 

“Nope!” she answered enthusiastically, gathering the tags and tying them to the candy grams. “We’ll make sure they get where they need to be next Friday!”

 

He wondered for a brief moment whether he was making a mistake in sending them, but it was too late now. He took a deep breath, shoved his hands in his pockets, and turned his mind to wondering what Jemma might think of receiving the candy gram as he headed back to his classroom. 

 

~*~

 

“We did it! We survived!”

 

Skye clapped Fitz on the shoulders and jumped a bit as they walked through the restaurant doors, earning her a dirty look from several of the older patrons in the dining room. Undaunted as ever, his friend made a beeline toward the back room where Fitz could see tables and decorations set up for the Crestwood Central holiday party. 

 

“What do you mean, ‘We survived’?” Hunter called after her. “Last I checked, you didn’t have any finals to give. You spent the week just sitting around the tech department, avoiding students with broken laptops!”

 

“You’re one t’ talk,” Fitz scoffed, giving Hunter a light push in the shoulder. “Y’ didnae have any finals t’ give, either!”

 

“But I’m still teaching faculty, Fitz,” Hunter protested as they wound their way through the tables, heading toward the one Skye had selected for them. “There’s pressure there.”

 

“Pressure my arse,” Fitz muttered half-heartedly, catching sight of Jemma. She was at the small bar along the wall, laughing at something the bartender had said while he made her drink. A small stab of jealousy jab him in the gut, and he did his best to push it aside and focus on the conversation at hand. 

 

“Either way,” Skye interjected, “the important part is this: we survived! And now we have two blissful weeks of vacation without children and parents and administrators!”

 

“And, we get to kick it off with an open bar.” Jemma joined them, sipping her drink before setting it down at the setting next to Fitz. She gave him a small smile before taking her seat and slapping a pile of tickets down in front of them. “Technically, it’s not an open bar, but I made nice with the barkeep. He slipped me some extra tickets.”

 

Skye’s eyes went wide at the pile of orange bits of paper and she quickly grabbed a handful. “All right, Jemma! First round’s on me, guys. Who wants what?”

 

~*~

 

Two hours after that first round, Fitz was questioning the wisdom of even attending the holiday party. The food had been phenomenal, true, but he’d been subjected to sitting through a rather horrendous rendition of “The Night Before Christmas,” read by none other than Coulson in a Santa hat. Not to mention the forced socialization with a series of increasingly drunk co-workers, a number of whom had felt perfectly comfortable with informing him that they had single daughters (and one son) who would love to show him around, if he’d like. Thankfully, Fitz had managed to sidestep the matchmaking with no more than some seriously flushed cheeks. 

 

At least Jemma was there. And if she had been at all off put by the fact that Fitz hadn’t made time for her, it hadn’t shown. She was as cheerful as always, laughing at his jokes and easily making small talk, and Fitz felt warmed through just for being able to be around her. 

 

That warm glow was still with him even as the management ushered them from the banquet room and into the main restaurant; apparently the school’s time had run out, and while they needn’t go home, they were required to start paying for their own drinks. Coulson and May waved good bye as Fitz helped Skye and Jemma gather their things, dutifully trailing after them to the bar with Hunter, Bobbi, and Mack in tow. 

 

“Let’s play a game!”

 

Five pairs of eyes cut over to Skye, each of them wary of what she was about to suggest. 

 

“Just keep it legal,” Mack advised, signaling for another beer and laying down his card to start a tab. “I’m not getting any of you out of jail tonight.”

 

Fitz felt his stomach sink to his knees, and not just because Skye knew a good deal about him that he’d prefer his colleagues not. Rather, there was a mischievous glint in her eye that told him he might not like the outcome of this game. Feeling rather too far gone to put up a fight, however, Fitz merely laid some cash down on the polished wood and ordered his drinks, gearing up for whatever came his way. 

 

In truth, for a game of “Never Have I Ever” featuring Daisy Johnson, it was rather subdued at first. The questions were clearly targeted at getting to know each other: they covered places they’d lived, studied, and visited; phobias (or at least Hunter’s  coulrophobia ); and embarrassing moments in their dating history. But as those questions petered out, the mood shifted and suddenly Fitz felt as though he was being targeted. 

 

“Hmm,” Skye hummed, pretending to think. “Never have I ever had a crush on a co-worker.”

 

Hunter and Bobbi easily lifted their glasses to their lips and drank. Fitz hesitated for a moment before lifting his as well; interestingly, Jemma did, too.

 

“Never have I ever…” Bobbi’s eyes cut over to Jemma, “had a lab fantasy.”

 

The pink tinging her cheeks was brighter now, and Fitz noticed she wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes as she took a sip. He followed suit - as did Hunter, disturbingly enough - even as he felt torn between mortification on Jemma’s behalf rabid curiosity regarding the exact nature of those fantasies. Particularly if they aligned in anyway with his own. 

 

“Never have I ever welched on a Christmas tradition.”

 

There was no denying what the three of them were doing now, and Fitz felt his own cheeks blaze in response. It was one thing for Hunter and Skye to tease him privately, but to needle Jemma about it at the same time - and in public - was another matter entirely. 

 

“Too far,” he growled, glaring at Hunter. He downed the rest of his ale though, setting it down a little too firmly on the counter before digging out a few spare dollars for the bartender’s tip. “Too bloody far.” Fitz tossed the money next to his empty pint for emphasis and grabbed his jacket. “I think i’s time for me t’ go home; cheers, everyone. I’ll see y’ in th’ new year.”

 

He heard the scraping of bar stools against the floor and voices calling after him, but ignored them. He knew his friends didn’t mean to be malicious, but being called out like that in front of his peers - and honestly, it was mostly Jemma that concerned him - stung more than Fitz would care to admit. He turned his collar up against the cold and tugged his mobile from his pocket to call for a ride, tucking himself into a hidden alcove near the restaurant’s entrance as he did so. 

 

“Fitz, wait!”

 

Jemma came bursting through the doors, her coat only half way on, as she called out for him. Fitz considered hiding from her before he thought better of it. 

 

“‘M right here,” he answered, gesturing her toward him before stepping back into the alcove. 

 

“Good,” Jemma breathed out, pulling her own coat more firmly about herself before following him into the cramped space. “I was afraid you’d driven off already.” 

 

Fitz sucked in a breath as Jemma encroached on his personal space. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed, although whether from lingering embarrassment, her drinking, or the cold Fitz couldn’t say. He itched to get his hands on her, but shoved them deeper into his pockets. It was bad enough their colleagues had singled them out; he didn’t need to embarrass either of them any further. 

 

“No, no driving. Just called an Uber.”

 

There was an awkward pause before they both rushed to fill the silence. 

 

“Fitz, listen-”

 

“Look, Jemma, I-”

 

“-I’m sorry about Daisy-”

 

“-dinnae want t’ make y’ uncomfortable-”

 

“-I just made the mistake of telling her-”

 

“-but I d’ like y’, tha’s why they asked-”

 

“-that I think you’re cute and she just-”

 

“-those questions.”

 

“-ran with it. Wait. Did you say you like me?”

 

“Uh,” Fitz hesitated, hating how juvenile the words sounded when Jemma repeated them. “Yeah. I did.”

 

“ _ You _ sent me the chocolate,” Jemma whispered as she grinned up at him.

 

“Righ’ again. Did I hear y’ say tha’ I’m cute?” Fitz couldn’t help but grin himself, the alcohol in his system and what was possibly the best news he’d heard all semester working on him all at once. 

 

“You did.”

 

They both giggled, falling together in their shared mirth. Jemma glanced upward and her laughter doubled. Fitz raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but all she could manage to do was point to above them. He looked up and gave a disbelieving snort. Hanging at the edge of the alcove was a large green blob, dotted with white, waxy berries. 

 

“Bloody brilliant,” Fitz breathed, locking eyes with Jemma. 

 

“Feel like keeping with tradition, Fitz?”

 

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Here, without anyone to see them, Fitz looped an arm around Jemma’s waist, pulled her flush against him, and happily laid his lips against her own. 


	6. January

Jemma leaned forward, and squinting in concentration, put the final strokes of crimson polish on her toe nails. As much as she’d enjoyed the past weeks with Fitz, she hadn’t taken the time to pamper herself; a quick pedicure while the object of her affection showered was the perfect fix. Propping her chin on her knee, Jemma cast a look at the bathroom door and found herself grinning. Fitz did that to her. And while she was certain that a lot of that had to do with the fact that the relationship was in its early stages, Jemma was certainly content to just bask in the proverbial glow.

She heard the water cut off and Jemma roused herself enough to begin clearing away her things. She was just twisting the bottle of nail polish shut when Fitz walked in, towel slung around his hips and curls damp. Jemma gave him an appraising eye but quickly broke into giggles when he wagged his brows back at her; his expression was simply too ridiculous.

“Y’ know, I may actually need t’ go back t’ mine soon,” Fitz said as he dug through his duffle. “‘M nearly out of clean clothes.”

“There’s a washing machine here, if you need it,” Jemma replied without hesitation. She sat with her arms curled around her knees now, a bit worried that perhaps that had been too forward in assuming Fitz would rather stay with her than go home for a while. That hesitation evaporated though, as soon as he turned away from his bag and smiled at her.

“Good t’ know.”

Fitz made himself comfortable at the edge of the bed, letting the towel go loose so he could pull a pair of boxers up his legs. Jemma watched as he continued to pad around her bedroom in nothing more than his underwear, the earlier pleasant buzz she’d felt creeping back in, easing the tension she’d begun to feel. Fitz had very quickly made himself at home in her apartment and frankly, Jemma enjoyed it. She knew it might be foolish, that she was being misled by the rush of hormones that came at the start of a relationship, but he just  _ fit  _ so well - with her, her patterns, her habits - that it seemed meant to be.

Her mobile buzzed on the bedside table, pulling Jemma’s attention away from the half-naked man who had climbed back into bed next to her. Daisy’s face smiled up from the lock screen, and Jemma’s first response was to simply reject the call. She stopped herself, though, and with an apologetic look at Fitz, picked up before it could go to voicemail.

“Hey, Daisy.”

“Jemma!  _ Finally _ ! Where in the hell have you been?”

Jemma winced at her friend’s question. She’d never been the kind to put friends aside for a man, but spending time with Fitz had consumed her lately. The fact of the matter was that despite them running in the same circles, she wasn’t entirely ready to come out publically as a couple. Perhaps even because of that. It would be all over school as soon as they went back anyway; Jemma just wanted a little extra time to themselves.

“Just… around.”

“Around, huh?” Daisy’s tone had gone sly, and Jemma had to brace herself for what was coming next. “You haven’t seen Fitz while you’ve just been around, have you? Trip hasn’t seen him in oh… nearly a week.”

Jemma looked at Fitz and arched a brow. Given the look on his face, he’d been perfectly able to hear Daisy’s side of the conversation and there was a mischievous glint in his eye that Jemma was certain meant trouble for her. Still, she scooted forward when Fitz nudged her, allowing him to slide behind her. His arms came around her waist while his legs bracketed her hips, and Jemma was able to just relax back against his chest. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that Fitz ran warm and she had moved to take advantage of that fact nearly immediately.

“I may have run into him a time or two,” Jemma answered, biting back a gasp. Fitz’ mouth was warm on her shoulder, and he was carefully pressing kisses against the skin exposed by her tank top. She shivered in response, her eyes drifting shut for a brief moment. “But I haven’t seen him often.”

“Jemma.” The silence coming through the line was heavy with her friend’s judgement. “You’re a terrible liar. Even over the phone, which is saying something.” Despite her words, Daisy’s tone was affectionate. “Look, we know he hasn’t been home in ages. His bed has been made all this time - which is amazing in and of itself - and half of his closet is missing.”

“Oh? Perhaps he went on holiday?”

By this time Fitz had worked his way up to her neck and was currently busy alternating between kissing, suckling, and nipping at her to drive her to distraction. It was working a bit too well; Jemma felt heat begin to pool low in her belly and her nipples were tightening despite the warmth of the room. Fitz took notice, and with a grin Jemma could feel against her skin, he brought a hand up to palm her breast. She squirmed back against him, hoping to get him to stop. All he did was chuckle, the smarmy bastard.

“Holiday. Right,” Daisy snorted on the other end of the line. “I don’t think Fitz has ever taken a vacation in his life.”

“There’s a first time for everything?” Jemma suggested weakly. Her voice was a bit breathy thanks to her boyfriend’s attention, and she could only pray that Daisy would buy it if she blamed it on a poor connection.

“Besides, I have a feeling that if he’d taken a last minute trip anywhere, you’d be right there with him.”

“OH- oh, uh, why is that?”

Jemma swatted at Fitz, but he merely chuckled and brushed her hair aside so he could reach the other side of her neck, infuriating, multi-talented,  _ distracting  _ man that he was.

“Really, Jemma? Fitz gets up to leave and you disappear a few minutes later? It doesn’t exactly take a genius-level intellect to put two and two together there, even if I was three-too-many rum and cokes deep.”

Jemma stayed silent, knowing anything she said next would likely only serve to give her away. She wasn’t sure why she was being so stubborn - Daisy had been the person pushing the hardest for her to make a move on Fitz after all - but she just wasn’t ready. She didn’t want the private little bubble they’d created for themselves to break just yet.

“I’m going to take your silence as tacit acknowledgement that you’ve kidnapped my boyfriend’s roommate and made him your personal sex slave -”

“Daisy!” Jemma screeched into the phone, which only just served to cover Fitz’ quick bark of laughter as he pulled away from her. He managed to muffle his chuckling but had to lean back against the headboard to do so, earning a murderous look from Jemma.  _ Traitor _ , she mouthed and stuck out her tongue.

“Ha! I’d know that laugh anywhere!” Fitz  _ is  _ there.”

“Whether he is or isn’t, what does it matter? All you care is that he’s out of the apartment so you and Trip can christen every surface.”

Fitz made an exaggerated gagging motion that caused Jemma to shake with her own suppressed laughter.

“Psh. Please. We achieved that on day three-”

“Oi! My bed better be off limits or y’ owe me new sheets!”

“ _ There _ he is. Hi, Fitzy.”

Realizing that the jig was up, Jemma pulled the phone away from her ear and clicked over to speaker phone.

“Hi, Skye,” Fitz grumbled as he resumed his position folded around Jemma. “Y’ realize tha’ I am serious about th’ sheets, yeah?”

“Your room is safe, I promise. Trip has scruples. I haven’t been able to shake him of those. Yet.”

Sensing Fitz’ mood might take a serious down turn if she engaged with Daisy for too much longer, Jemma cut back into the conversation with an eye on ending it.

“You never call, Daisy. What’s going on?”

“Oh, that. We have tickets for a New Year’s Eve party tomorrow night at a bar in the Loop. Thought we’d offer it to you two before selling them back to the bar. Thoughts?”

Jemma twisted in place so she could look Fitz in the eye. Without uttering a word, they batted the idea around, Jemma’s hesitation and Fitz’ displeasure at the thought of spending a night in a crowded bar on one of the busiest nights of the year plain for the other to see.

“We’re going to pass.”

“Aww, really? C’mon, it’ll be fun! Booze and food is included, and how often do you get to wear those dresses you have stashed in the back of your closet?”

“No thanks,” Fitz chimed in. “It’s goin’ t’ be bloody cold tomorrow-”

“-and way too crowded-”

“-an’ there’s better food here anyway. An’ we have BBC America.”

“Jesus. You two even  _ argue  _ in sync. That’s just wrong.”

“Just because you can’t beat us isn’t a reason to belittle us,” Jemma rebutted, doing her best to sound serious but ultimately failing to keep the humorous note from her tone.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Daisy grumbled back. “If you want to be recluses in your little sex-nest-”

Both Jemma and Fitz protested that description of Jemma’s apartment, but Daisy simply spoke over them.

“-suit yourselves. I’ll have Trip sell the tickets back and just post fabulous photos all over Insta. Just make sure that when you do come back to school you both can walk straight. Our students are oblivious, but  _ not  _ that oblivious.”

“Good  _ night _ , Daisy!”

They spoke at the same time and Jemma quickly ended the call before their friend could get in any more one liners. They shared a look before dissolving into howls of laughter, falling back against the pillows and into each other.

~*~

As peaceful as the last few days were, their first Monday back dawned gray and cold, leaving Jemma feeling grumpy and out of sorts. As nice as it was to have large swaths of vacation time built into her work schedule, the fact of the matter was that it also made it all the more difficult to go back to her daily routine.

At least now she had Fitz around. It was a bit hectic, but they navigated showering, getting dressed, and eating with relatively few mishaps, and Jemma found herself contemplating whether or not it was time to clear out some of her closet while Fitz drove them to work. It might be nice if he were able to hang some of his work clothes at her flat, after all. And if they were going to continue carpooling, it was really more of a necessity than anything else.

Thankfully, the students were as preoccupied as she was - although most of their preoccupation was with getting an accurate countdown to spring break, as well as deciding whether or not weekends should be counted in the final total. Jemma had just broken up a particularly spirited debate between two of the girls in her freshman homeroom when a boy near the window shouted out, “Hey, look at that car!”

Like moths to a flame, Jemma’s homeroom crowded up against the windows, all twenty of them jostling for position to see what Edgar did. The few that did manage to get up close actually had their noses pressed up against the windows, which almost would have been adorable if they weren’t hellions.

“That’s awesome!”

“What is it?”

“How am I supposed to know? Hey, Peter, your dad has a garage, right? What is that?”

“Shelby Mustang. Looks like a ‘67.”

Jemma’s head shot up and she had to remember to act normally. There was no way they could know-

“Wait, Ms. Simmons, isn’t that  _ your  _ spot?”

“Oooh, did you get a new car?”

“Wait, doesn’t Mr. Fitz drive a Shelby?”

There was a long, drawn out pause as forty eyes swiveled away from the window and over to Jemma’s desk at the front of the room. She had to remind herself to breathe calmly as she quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at them.

“Ms. Simmons,” Peter asked after another beat or two, “why is Mr. Fitz parked in your spot?”

“He, ah, gave me a ride to work this morning,” Jemma explained, cheeks going pink at the few titters at her inadvertent innuendo. “My car wouldn’t start. And my spot is closer to the faculty door than his is, so I told him to just park there.”

They watched her for a long minute, and Jemma found she was a bit unnerved by their concentration. At the same time, she found herself a bit annoyed; they could exert this much focus on something as trivial as a car parked in a faculty spot, but not her instructions or the in-class problem sets.

Fortunately, they seemed to accept her answer and slowly returned to their seats. The only one who remained standing was Peter, who approached her desk.

“So… if you’re having car trouble, my dad could look at it.”

His tone was wheedling, and Jemma felt her “skeptical teacher” look automatically drop into place, a single brow arched as she fixed the freshman with a gimlet eye.   

“Oh, is that so? I don’t suppose there’s a discount for Crestwood teachers, is there?”

“There might be,” Peter said with a grin, “if you talk to Mrs. Thomas and get my C bumped up to a B in biology for last semester.”

Jemma didn’t bother trying to fight the urge to laugh, shaking her head slightly as she went back to organizing the papers that somehow already taken over her desk.

“So, that’s a ‘no’ then?”

“A most emphatic one,” Jemma replied, a small smile still twisting her lips. “Although, I can’t fault you for trying, can I?”

~*~

“I have no idea how y’ talked me int’ this,” Fitz grumbled, slouching as low as he could in his section of the bleachers and looking annoyed. “We could be home, watchin’ TV right now.”

Jemma bumped her shoulder against his and tilted their shared bag of popcorn toward him. Her boyfriend considered the bag for a moment, then reached in and took a large handful before funneling it into his mouth.

“I’d like to remind you that  _ I _ didn’t talk you into anything. Your contract that stated you will supervise extracurricular activities when asked, and Bobbi who called us both in, did that.”

Fitz grumbled a bit more but relaxed, and Jemma found herself so charmed by his reaction that she automatically leaned in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, regardless of the students in the fan section milling below them. Fortunately, she and Fitz were sitting toward the back of the section - supposedly so they could keep a better eye on the students in front of them, but really so they could have at least a bit of privacy - while Crestwood Central took on its rival, Crestwood North.

While Jemma didn’t have much interest in sports at all, she knew enough to know that the Central team was, in a word, horrible. And that was putting it charitably. They were losing by 25 points, and even the most diehard of the student section - decked out in orange and blue face paint - had started to pay more attention to their phones than the game. Emboldened by the lack of attention. Jemma snaked an arm around Fitz’ waist and scooted closer to him. Dressed as they were in jeans and Crestwood Central hoodies, they almost could have been mistaken for students themselves.

Her nearness seemed to appease Fitz, who relaxed against her and brought his own arm around Jemma’s shoulders, holding her in place against him. Jemma briefly contemplated whether or not they could sneak out early - it wasn’t like they were going to come back and win, and their students should be sufficiently demoralized to keep them from starting any fights - but quit on it. Bobbi would be looking for them to check in.

It seemed that thinking of the other woman was enough to cause her to materialize at the bottom of their section of the bleachers. The tall blonde waved up at Jemma, who disentangled herself from Fitz to wave back. To her surprise, however, Bobbi didn’t smile back at her; instead, she gestured for Jemma to join her courtside.

“Wha’s she wan’?”

“I’m not sure,” Jemma answered as she disentangled herself from Fitz. “I’ll be right back.”

She descended quickly, picking her way around students and their jackets one row at a time until she bounced to a stop next to Bobbi.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Not here,” Bobbi answered tersely, looking from side to side. “Follow me.”

Jemma followed Bobbi out of the gym and down into the girls’ locker room. The usually clamorous room was silent now, creating an eerie atmosphere as Jemma and Bobbi’s steps echoed off the tiled walls. She followed Bobbi down a row of lockers only to have her friend turn abruptly, giving Jemma a bit of a start.

“Jemma, what the hell are you thinking?”

“Thinking? About what? Bobbi, I-”

“I’m glad you and Fitz finally got it together and hooked up, but you can’t carry on like that in front of students.”

“Carry on like what?” Jemma felt her blood rushing through her ears, a clear indication of her rising temper. “What are you even on about?”

“You and Fitz. Cuddling. In plain view of students and their parents.”

“I- we- we weren’t-”

Jemma struggled for the words to defend herself, even knowing it was useless. Bobbi was right, and she’d known they shouldn’t have been so openly affectionate in front of students. But her pride kept her from being quiet about it, particularly where one of her best friends - someone who had encouraged her to pursue Fitz - was concerned.

“Jemma, you were sloppy and obvious. Not to mention unprofessional. No one is saying you can’t date Fitz; you just can’t be so damn obvious about it.”

“ _ Unprofessional _ ?” Jemma shot back, her brain grasping onto the one word that had felt most like a slap in the face. “Obvious? You mean like you and Hunter sneaking off into the PE offices after school? Or him asking for private meetings in your office once a week? Or you two going to lunch off campus?”

“Jemma-”

“No! No, you don’t get to call me unprofessional when you’re just as guilty of that as I am!”

Bobbi watched her for a beat, arms crossed beneath her breasts and eyebrow raised. Jemma had seen her give students that look before - typically right before she reamed them out and gave them multiple detentions to boot - and was disquieted at seeing it turned on her.

“I am. Which is why I got this same speech from May. Would you like me to get her instead?”

“No, don’t,” Jemma said, giving herself a small shake in an attempt to slough off her sudden onset of bad temper and the image of having to receive “The Talk” from Melinda May. “I know we shouldn’t-”

“But it’s too easy to be distracted by him?”

Bobbi’s smile was kind and Jemma found herself returning the look reflexively.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Jemma, look, no one is saying not to date Fitz. It’s not like we have anything in place that says you can’t date a colleague, and you’re the happiest I’ve seen you in a while. But you just have to keep it out of sight of the kids.” Jemma nodded, feeling too sheepish to say anything more. Thankfully, Bobbi was willing to keep talking. “Just remember that when we go upstairs, and everything is going to be fine.”

With one more nod of agreement, Jemma and Bobbi headed back up to the gym, chatting casually about what the week ahead of them would bring. To anyone watching them, it would seem like a perfectly normal conversation between friends, but Jemma hardly noticed what they discussed. Her mind was back at the top of the bleachers with Fitz, wondering how he’d feel about Bobbi’s warning for them both.

~*~

Fortunately, Fitz understood exactly what Bobbi meant and was more than willing to dial back the more overt displays of affection that had become common place for them over winter break. Instead he held it to pointed looks from across the hall or periodic text messages sent when she was proctoring a test that left her feeling impatient to get him alone. It was flirtatious and exciting, and Jemma was somehow even hungrier for Fitz than she’d been before they’d slept together for the first time.

Except with second semester in full swing, they rarely had time to act on it.

Fitz was spending as much time at Jemma’s as ever, but instead of cuddling up and watching Netflix before distracting each other with kisses and caresses that always carried them into the bedroom, they were bogged down in grading. Granted, it was a lot more entertaining with Fitz there, but by the time they retired for the night, all they had energy for was curling up together beneath her duvet and giving themselves over to sleep.

Respite came one chilly morning toward the end of January. With the day just beginning to dawn a steely gray, first Fitz’, then Jemma’s mobiles rang. They each fumbled for their respective devices, pressing them to their ears to listen to the recorded message.

When Jemma ends the call on her phone and looks over at Fitz, she’s greeted by the widest grin she’s ever seen him wear prior to having his morning coffee. His impossibly blue eyes are bright with excitement and she can practically feel him buzzing next to her. That energy is enough to keep her from simply falling back into her pillows and going back to bed for several more hours.

“Yes?” Jemma asks, clearly teasing.

“We have a snow day,” Fitz whispers, the awe that this is something that can actually happen apparent in his voice. “Well, a freeze day, bu’ still. No work. Jus’ because.”

“Not quite ‘just because,’ but yes, no work today.”

Jemma scooted closer to him across the mattress, seeking out the comfort of being pressed as near to him as she possibly could be. Fitz opened his arms to her, easily gathering her against his chest and allowing his fingers to being carding through her hair. It was soothing enough that Jemma thought she might be able to fall back asleep, until Fitz broke the silence.

“So, wha’ are we doin’ today?”

“Doing?” Jemma cracked an eye open and looked at Fitz. “I thought we could go back to sleep, for starters.”

“Hmm,” Fitz hummed, pretending to consider her answer before shaking his head in the negative. “I have better plans than tha’, lass.”

Jemma pulled back this time to meet his eyes, only to be struck by the desire she saw there. Her breath caught in her throat as Fitz scanned her face and down to where her breasts were pressed against his chest. Heat flared in Jemma’s belly and she instinctively pressed her hips forward to catch against his.

Grinning down at her, Fitz kissed her, starting a slow slide of lips before deepening the kiss, his tongue dipping in to joust with hers as he pressed her onto her back. Reaching behind him, Fitz pulled the covers over their heads, the white bedding creating an artificially bright bubble around them.

It was perfect, the world narrowed down to her, Fitz, and the way they fit together as they lazily exchanged kisses that slowly grew more heated. She arched beneath him, urging him to take what he wanted, urging his hands to explore and his mouth to nip at her throat. Fitz gladly obliged her, chuckling as he divested her of her camisole and began working his way over her clavicles.

“Still wan’ t’ go back t’ sleep, Jemma?”

“Fitz,” she groaned, fingers lacing through his curls to keep him in place. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“As y’ wish.”

They didn’t speak much after that, other than a few quiet curses and oaths that barely escaped the muffled confines of their impromptu blanket fort, and sometime before falling asleep between round three and four, a single, reverberating thought had crystallized in Jemma’s mind.

She was absolutely, terribly, head-over-heels in love.

 


	7. February

“C’mon, Fitz, what’s the big deal?”

 

Fitz groaned and leaned back in his chair, trying to will himself to just drop through the floor. He could feel five pairs of eyes on him, and he took a moment to imagine the look each of his friends would be giving him when he did look up. Mack would be indifferent, Bobbi would be trying to pressure him into chaperoning so she wouldn’t have to find another teacher, Hunter and Daisy would be watching his discomfort with unabashed glee, and Jemma would be trying her best not to sway him at all. Which, naturally, would sway him entirely. She didn’t even have to try very much at all to convince Fitz to see her side of things. 

 

He sighed and sat up, ready to fend off another round of arguments from his over enthusiastic friends. 

 

“Look, I jus’ dinnae see why-”

 

Fitz was quite literally saved by the bell as the shrieked to life above him, abruptly ending their lunch break and the conversation along with it. Chairs scraping over the scuffed linoleum, they all go to their feet and shuffled toward the exit. Only Bobbi lingered. As an administrator, she didn’t have a set class schedule and so had the luxury of an extended lunch, something they all teased her about but didn’t actually begrudge her. Students and parents kept Bobbi busy enough; there was no need to give her hell over the few quiet moments she managed to eke out for herself. 

 

Just as he was about to slip past her, Bobbi snaked out her hand and caught his forearm. “Seriously, Fitz,” she said, looking up at him with an expression that could only be described as “imploring,” a word Fitz doubted had ever been used to describe Bobbi in her entire life. “The kids like you. Just consider coming for the dance. Okay?”

 

Fitz nodded, finding himself oddly touched by Bobbi’s simple, yet earnest, plea.  _ Y’ become a bloody teacher an’ y’ go sof’ _ , he thought to himself as he caught up to Jemma in the hall just outside the lounge. She gave him a fond smile and they fell in with each other naturally, both drifting in the direction of the science wing and their next classes. 

 

“So, why don’t you want to chaperone the dance?”

 

Fitz fought the urge to roll his eyes. There were a number of reasons he didn’t feel like chaperoning another dance aside from the fact that he had already completed his contractual obligation for the year. And while he was fine telling them to Jemma - he told her nearly everything as it was - he wasn’t all that keen to share them in a crowded hall where anyone could hear them. Ducking out of the flow of traffic, Fitz pulled Jemma to a stop in a quiet corner of the hall where there weren’t many students. 

 

“Look, th’ fac’ is tha’ I’ve finished wit’ my chaperonin’-”

 

“Oh,  _ Fitz _ -”

 

“-an’ I spend enough time here as i’ is-”

 

“-it’s just a dance! We stand there and watch while-”

 

“-and I though’ it migh’ be nice t’ have time t’ ourselves.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Fitz watched as Jemma’s expression flashed from argumentative to disappointed to thoughtful, all in the space of a few seconds. He felt bad for disappointing her, but he was starting to feel worn out with being around Crestwood all the time. With a sigh, he looked into his classroom; the seats were filling quickly and the natives were growing restless. Jemma noticed it, too, and did something uncharacteristic, at least for where they were; she stepped into his personal space and laid her hand along his forearm, drawing Fitz’ attention back to her face. 

 

“I’ll make you a deal,” she wheedled, giving Fitz a smile that made his stomach flip. “I’ll give you a night in together if you chaperone with me.”

 

“A full weekend,” Fitz fired back, “an’ a’ my place.” Jemma gave him a skeptical look. “Trip an’ Skye booked a weekend away this weekend. Early Valentine’s for them, an empty flat for me. Us. If y’ like.”

 

“All right.” Jemma gave him a considering look, a small smile curling her lips. “Early Valentine’s Day it is. I’ll bring a bag with me Friday. That way we can leave right from here.”

 

“Sounds perfec’.” 

 

The bell rang and they drifted apart, each headed to their respective rooms for their afternoon lessons. Thankfully Fitz was well versed in the conservation of energy and was able to drift through his lesson plan, his mind already on the weekend and how to make the most of being able to spend time with Jemma at his place. 

 

~*~

 

The week went surprisingly well, even with Jemma dragging him into Bobbi’s office to officially sign up as a chaperone for the winter dance. Sure, there was the requisite amount of gloating from his boss, and Hunter made more than a few smartass comments that he’d undoubtedly pay for later, but Fitz could live with that. And, since signing up meant he was heading into the weekend with a happy girlfriend, he certainly wasn’t going to complain. 

 

It took some of the edge off Fitz’ anxiety about having Jemma stay at his flat for the weekend. She’d been there before, sure, but that had been for a holiday and Trip had done most of the work. He knew that logically there was nothing to worry about - he and Jemma had spent hours and hours together without anything going amiss - but for some reason the idea that he’d have a chance to impress Jemma in his space made him nervous. 

 

Fortunately for Fitz, there had been nothing to worry about. From the moment they walked in Friday after work, Jemma fit seamlessly into his space. Their routine wasn’t much different from what they’d fallen into in her place; they cooked together, collapsed onto the sectional to watch a movie, and that night Fitz got to make love to Jemma in his own bed. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being in his own space. Jemma had done everything she could to make him feel comfortable in her flat - extra toothbrush, drawer for what he needed, keeping his favorite snacks in her pristine, gluten-and-preservative free kitchen - but it still didn’t beat being in his own home with her. 

 

Naturally, just when he was feeling comfortable, it all came crashing down. 

 

They’d had a rather perfect Saturday. Had a lie-in, pancakes and bacon for breakfast, wandered through an art exhibit Jemma had been dying to see, and then lounged around his apartment. It was a rather perfect weekend day, other than the bags of grading and planning that taunted them from a corner near the door, but Fitz figured that if Jemma was okay with ignoring it, he was, too. 

 

They were easing toward dinner on Saturday night, sharing a bottle of wine while Fitz made them dinner. He was feeling flush - from the heat of the kitchen, the wine, or just being near Jemma he couldn’t really say - and happy. 

 

“Are you sure you’ve made this before?” Jemma teased, leaning against his back and peering over his shoulder as he stirred the ingredients in the pan. 

 

“I’ll have y’ know tha’ my chicken florentine alfredo is famous,” Fitz boasted, nudging Jemma lightly. “I’s a certified crowd-pleaser.”

 

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”

 

Fitz snorted. “Only girls tha’ have had this are Skye ‘n my mum. But they liked it.” 

 

A comfortable silence resumed for a few more minutes while Jemma refiled their wine glasses and threw out the now-empty bottle. 

 

“Why do you call her that?” Fitz raised an eyebrow at Jemma’s question but didn’t stop cooking. “Why do you call Daisy ‘Skye’?”

 

“Ah.” Fitz chuckled and glanced down at the pan, making sure nothing was burning before looking back at Jemma. “She never told y’ the story o’ how we all met?”

 

“No, she hasn’t.”

 

“Well, th’ short version is tha’ jus’ after I moved in wit’ Trip we went out for a lads’ nigh’. She - Daisy - happened t’ be a’ th’ bar we wen’ t’, and well,” Fitz felt himself blush, “we both made a pass a’ her withou’ even knowin’ it.”

 

“What?! You  _ did _ ?” 

 

Fitz was more than a it taken aback - and offended - that his girlfriend seemed so amused by the idea of him hitting on their shared friend, and subconsciously puffed in response. 

 

“Yeah, I  _ did _ . Unfortunately for me, she gave me a fake name an’ number. See, she was hopin’ t’ never see me again…”

 

“Oh, no, Fitz-”

 

“...bu’ unfortunately for her, she decided t’ go home wit’ Trip tha’ nigh’. We’d taken separate rides, bu’ I shocked th’ hell ou’ of her the nex’ mornin’ when she came into th’ kitchen t’ find me makin’ coffee. Bes’ rejection ever.” He grinned at Jemma and turned out the flame. “Grab th’ bowls, yeah? We’re ready t’ go here.”

 

Jemma took the news of him having once hit on her best friend surprisingly well, and they were able to set the table together with ease, joking back and forth about the look on Skye’s face when she realized she’d gone home with the roommate of the man she’d rejected. Jemma was asking how long he’d held it over Skye’s head when his apartment buzzer rang. 

 

“Jemma, would y’ mind takin’ my keys t’ get tha’? I think i’s the stuff I ordered the other day. I’ll finish settin’ the table.

 

Jemma nodded, smiling as she grabbed his keys from the hook and slipped out the door. Fitz took a moment to watch her go, pleased by how readily she fit into his weekend routine. He’d been worried over nothing. 

 

By the time Jemma came back, bearing a small box and a stack of his other mail, Fitz had the rest of the place settings out and their food plated. For being such a simple dish, his chicken florentine alfredo still looked impressive, and he noted with pride that Jemma seemed impressed. Fitz made a mental note to memorize more recipes, just for good measure. 

 

“Here you are.” Jemma handed the items off to him before breezing past into the kitchen. “Do you just want your wine, or would you like water as well?”

 

Fitz was aware that she’d asked a question, but he couldn’t quite make out what she’d said. All he could focus on was the crisp, white envelope his girlfriend had just handed him, the one that was embossed with the blue-and-silver badge in the upper lefthand corner. Without thinking, Fitz dropped everything but the single letter and ripped into the envelope.

 

Jemma found him, still standing there with the other mail scattered around his feet as his eyes scanned the text, a moment later. 

 

“Oh,  _ hell _ .”

 

“Fitz? Fitz, what is it?” 

 

“They want me.” He looked up with a wide grin. “They actually want me! I was afraid that with my CV they’d think I’d changed careers, but they want me- Just not here.”

 

Jemma’s eyes narrowed as she considered him. Fitz’ elation took a nosedive as he realized his girlfriend may not be as thrilled about his job hunting as he was. 

 

“Fitz, what are you talking about?”

 

“Well, Jemma, you see,” he began, stumbling a bit over his words, “Mack’s brother works at tha’ car plant on th’ southside. Mack mentioned a while back tha’ they were lookin’ for design engineers, so I sen’ my CV.”

 

“Oh.” Jemma’s expression had fallen as he spoke, and Fitz felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “I hadn’t realized you were looking for other jobs.”

 

“I jus’- Jemma, ‘m an engineer, no’ a teacher. I wan’ t’ use my degree.” Feeling helpless, he took a step toward her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Does tha’ make sense?”

 

“It does, Fitz, really. I just wish you’d spoken to me about it.” She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, shaking his hand off. “So, they want you? How soon?” He could tell Jemma was trying to put a brave face on things, but her usually optimistic demeanor was missing.  

 

“Yeah, bu’ in July, no’ righ’ away. One of their lead designers is retirin’ then,” Fitz answered, swallowing heavily past the lump in his throat. 

 

The silence spun out between them, tensing further with each passing moment. Jemma looked down at her toes, shifting her weight from side to side. When she finally opened her mouth to speak, she sounded distant, and it only served to unnerve him further. 

 

“At least you can finish out the school year then.” She finally looked up at him, hazel eyes clouded over with an emotion Fitz couldn’t name. Jemma attempted a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “And you’ll still be in town. That’s something.”

 

The sense of dread the Fitz had been holding at bay swept over him, leaving a rock in his stomach and his mouth parched. 

 

“Jemma, th’ job… i’s no’ here. I’s in Dearborn.” 

 

“Dearborn,  _ Michigan _ ?”

 

Any trace of a smile was gone from her face now, and Fitz could see her hands were fisted against her sides. He wanted to go to her, but was afraid that if he came within striking distance, he would regret it. 

 

“Um, yeah.” He swallowed past the lump that had replaced his Adam’s apple, his rising panic leaving his blood pounding in his ears. “Th’ letter-” Fitz glanced down and skimmed it, “th’ letter says they wan’ me t’ fill out another application an’ they’ll follow up wit’ me later.”

 

“When did you apply?”

 

“Wha’? Jemma, wha’ does i’ matter-”

 

“When did you apply, Fitz?”

 

He could see that her lower lashes were glossed with tears, and Fitz could swear there was a knife twisting into his gut. 

 

“Jus’ before Christmas.”

 

“Oh, that’s great,” Jemma scoffed. “You applied after we slept together.” She finally moved, stalking over to the corner where she’d left her bags and throwing her things together. “Did you just want to get it in-”

 

“Wha’?! Jemma, no, tha’s bloody ridiculous!”

 

“-and then take off?”

 

Jemma had finished packing her things and was struggling into her coat. Fitz followed her over, hovering at the edges of her personal space, unsure of whether he should touch her or not. Jemma had never shied away from him before, but then again, she’d never accused him of just trying to hit it and quit it, either. 

 

“Tha’s insultin’, Jemma! When have I  _ ever  _ given y’ a reason t’ think somethin’ like tha’?”

 

“Just now, Fitz. When you announced that you’re moving 300 miles away to take a job I’ve never heard you mention-”

 

“I wasnae sure whether or no’ I’d hear from them, why would I say anythin’?”

 

“Is this a relationship or not, Fitz?”

 

He looked at Jemma, really looked at her with her coat on and eyes red-rimmed, and he wondered how in the hell his night had taken this kind of turn. 

 

“Yes, Jemma, it is, or at leas’ I wan’ it t’ be.”

 

“Then you should have told me about this, Fitz. That’s what someone in a relationship does.” She looked at him a moment longer, her lip quivering as a single tear fell. She swiped at it hastily and turned away. “I can’t be here, Fitz. Not right now.”

 

With that she was gone, leaving Fitz with a rapidly cooling dinner and an endless string of questions. 

 

~*~

 

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

 

Fitz glared up at Skye from his prone position on the sofa, his arm tightening defensively around his bowl of pretzels. He’d felt like shit since Jemma had stormed out and he’d pitched his carefully crafted dinner, and having his flatmate’s girlfriend in his face about it wasn’t helping matters any. 

 

“Fuck off, Skye.”

 

“What the  _ hell  _ did you do? Trip said you guys were going to have a nice weekend while we were away-”

 

“We’re no’ goin’ t’ talk about me an’ Jemma.”

 

“-and then Saturday night she texts us to say it’s over before going complete radio silence.”

 

Recognizing that Skye wouldn’t back down until he gave her some kind of answer, Fitz sighed and sat up. He snagged the remote in one hand and shut off the television before turning his attention back to her. 

 

“She’s no’ talkin’ t’ you guys, either?”

 

The glare was gone now, replaced by a sunken look that only reflected a fraction of what Fitz was feeling. If he had his way, he’d meld with the couch cushions and then proceed to sink through the floor until he couldn’t be found. Unfortunately for Fitz, the laws of physics weren’t in the mood to oblige him. 

 

“No, she’s not.” 

 

Skye’s eyes softened as she looked him over before sinking down on the sofa next to Fitz. Trip made an appearance, bowl of yogurt in hand, and perched himself on the armchair across from them. As always, his warm brown eyes were steady, watchful without being judgemental. 

 

“C’mon, Fitz. Tell us what happened. When Daisy and I left, you were over the moon.”

 

“She found out.” His friends stared at him, both clearly perplexed. Fitz sighed and elaborated. “About th’ job I applied for. There was a letter, an’ Jemma got t’ it before me.”

 

“Man, that’s rough.”

 

“You applied for a job?” Skye glanced from Fitz to her boyfriend, realization dawning on her. Leaning over Fitz, Skye gave Trip a light punch in his well-muscled arm. “Wait, you  _ knew  _ he applied for a job? You should have told me.”

 

She didn’t seem as upset by the news as Fitz had anticipated, but somehow that made him feel even worse. He’d not only done something behind Jemma’s back, but two of his friends’ as well, and all for no reason. The revelation that he’d ever want to leave Crestwood barely seemed to register. 

 

“Yeah, well, I was tryin’ t’ keep it quiet. No’ like I had an offer in hand until Saturday.” Fitz leaned back into the sofa and covered his face with his hands. “All I wanted was t’ be an engineer again. Why is tha’ so damn  _ difficult  _ for her t’ understand?”

 

“Did you actually tell her that, man, or did you do that Scottish thing you do where you just go right to yelling?”

 

“I dinnae do anythin’ o’ the sort!” 

 

Trip gave him a pointed looked before turning his attention back to his yogurt. 

 

“No’ with Jemma,” he quickly amended. “I did tell her I wanted t’ go back t’ bein’ an engineer, bu’ it probably go’ lost.”

 

Skye snorted and leaned into his side. She looked amused, but her look was affectionate enough that Fitz didn’t take offense at her laughter. 

 

“Probably. Tell us what happened, Fitz.”

 

So he did, the whole messy thing from start to finish. To their credit, Trip and Skye simply sat there and listened to his story. They didn’t interrupt him, even when Fitz expected them to, and he was able to get through the retelling without too much trouble, although it left him feeling entirely drained. 

 

“So tha’s it. Tha’s why we fought.”

 

“Fitz, I don’t think Jemma’s upset you want to be an engineer.”

 

“Well,” Fitz countered with a huff, “she certainly dinnae act like she was okay with it.”

 

“Did you ever think that maybe it has more to do with the distance than the job title?”

 

Feeling weighed down, it was all Fitz could do to look between Skye and Trip as his flatmate’s words rolled around his head. They had the ring of truth, and Fitz had to admit that in the middle of fighting with Jemma, he had never stopped to ask her what bothered her about him finding a new job. 

 

Taking his silence as acceptance, both Skye and Trip stood up, collecting the empty bowl and used spoon as they went. Skye didn’t go quietly, though, and left him with one last piece of advice before disappearing into Trip’s room. 

 

“Girls don’t have reactions like that if they don’t really care. Make it right, Fitz.”

 

~*~

 

“So… what’s the deal with you and Ms. Simmons?”

 

Fitz glared at the freshman who’d spoken up, a boy named Jackson that apparently wasn’t as put off by his grumpy look as the other students in his homeroom. It was a shame; they had all kept quiet and in control for two days with him looking this grouchy and Fitz quickly found himself mourning the loss of the quiet. 

 

“There’s no deal wit’ me an’ Ms. Simmons.”

 

“You sure? Because you’ve been grumpier than usual and she keeps looking over here.”

 

“Wha’?” Fitz jerked upright and stood from his stool, his head automatically turning so he could see into Jemma’s classroom. “She is?”

 

“Gotcha.”

 

He wasn’t proud of it, but Fitz glared at the fifteen year old as he lowered himself back onto the stool. 

 

“Funny. Did y’ need somethin’, Jackson?”

 

“No. Just wanted to know what was up. How are you gonna fix it?”

 

Fitz was keenly aware of the fact that the few quiet conversations going on near his lab bench had stopped. The students who had been avoiding meeting his eyes were now all fixated on the conversation he was having with Jackson. 

 

“Is tha’ really a question t’ ask your teacher?”

 

The boy gave him a look that unnervingly reminded him of Trip before speaking again. 

 

“Whatever you do, make it big. Like, prom-posal big. My brother’s an idiot, but his girlfriend ate it up when he went all out. Girls love that stuff.”

 

“Enlightening,” Fitz muttered, absentmindedly leafing through the papers on his desk. “If I ever decide t’ take datin’ advice from a student, I’ll keep tha’ in mind. Now take your seat.”

 

~*~

 

When the last bell rang on Friday, Fitz steadfastly kept his focus on his desk. There wasn’t actually anything in front of him, but anyone who glanced through the window in his door would think he was hard at work. 

 

The truth was that he was waiting for Jemma to leave. 

 

At precisely 3:19, he heard her garbage can hit the tiled hallway and her door click shut shortly after. He practically leapt off his stool to follow her, barely taking the time to shut his own door before making his way to the parking lot. 

 

Fitz got there just as Jemma opened her door and was able to see her reaction to what he’d left on her seat - a large bouquet of red tulips and a small, hand-written sign calling himself a prat. She froze, eyes going wide, before turning to look at him. Feeling suddenly self conscious, Fitz shoved his hands into his pockets, swallowed his remaining apprehension, and gave her a sheepish smile. He wanted to go to her, to wrap Jemma in a hug and kiss her, but he was aware of the few remaining students and parents who were still going through the after school pick up routine. 

 

Jemma had no such reservations. Without stopping to close her car door, Jemma turned and came to him, throwing her arms around Fitz’ neck without hesitation. His own arms came around her, his palms pressing in against her shoulders and waist to hold her close. It had only been a week without her, but Fitz had felt as though some fundamental part of him had been missing. 

 

“Jemma, ‘m sorry-”

 

“Shh, Fitz, it’s okay,” she murmured, cutting him off as she pulled her face out of his neck. “We need to talk, but it can wait.”

 

Fitz gave her an uncertain look - he’d expected that Jemma would want to talk it out immediately - but nodded all the same. He was just glad to be back in her good graces. 

 

“I missed y’, Jemma.”

 

Jemma’s grin widened and her arms squeezed him just a bit tighter. 

 

“Missed you, too. I’m… I’m sorry I ran. I shouldn’t have.”

 

Fitz was ready to tell her not to be silly, but Jemma had other plans in mind. Pressing up onto her toes, she laid her mouth over his, heedless of the lingering crowd. For his part, Fitz was happy to sink into the kiss, students, parents, and district HR rules be damned. 

 

He had Jemma back, and that was all that mattered. 


	8. March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, I’ve been thinking-”
> 
> “Tha’s never good,” Fitz teased, only to have Daisy ignore him. 
> 
> “-that we all need to get away.” They each gave her a puzzled look, but she pressed on. “Spring break is coming up soon, and I want to take advantage. Nowhere crazy, mind you, I know we’re a bit too old for a Cancún-style spring break, but somewhere warm with beaches wouldn’t go amiss, you know?”

“So, explain to me why, if my daughter was failing your course, you never called me?”

 

Jemma stared across the table at Mr. Chanda, throttling back her impulse to roll her eyes and ask if she were speaking English. She’d explained this to him countless times - over the phone, via email, and twice tonight - but Jemma was willing to give it one more go. If only because Coulson was standing at the front of the cafeteria wearing his “please the parents” smile. 

 

“Mr. Chandra, I update student grades every Friday afternoon. You can access all of  Tiffany’s  grades in real time using the login information Ms. Johnson gave you at the start of the year.”

 

“How am I supposed to know what any of that means?”

 

“Well, the percentage, along with the letter grade, is displayed on the student’s dashboard as soon as you sign in.”

 

“That’s a lot to ask of parents. It would be much simpler if you just called me when she started doing poorly!”

 

Jemma bit back a sigh and glanced toward poor Tiffany, who was doing her best to sink in on herself while her father nattered on. She briefly considered outlining everything about his request that was outlandish - from the fact that she had nearly 200 students to the free app parents could use - but quit on it. He clearly was simply spoiling for a fight, and Tiffany looked embarrassed enough as it was. Someone had to be an adult here, and clearly it had to be Jemma. 

 

“While I would like to consider that, Mr. Chandra, district policy states that I have to communicate via the portal and email,” Jemma lied smoothly, giving the befuddled father a tight smile. “They want a clear record, you understand. I do promise you that I will make sure Tiffany’s grade is updated every Friday afternoon, and if you have questions you can email me at any time.”

 

Jemma scrawled her email on a Post-It and handed it to Mr. Chandra as he stood up from the table. He looked a bit confused, as though he wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened, but had no choice other than to accept it. Tiffany, looking relieved, ushered her father away to find another teacher to harangue. Jemma hoped that for her sake, it was to someone who taught a class she was performing well in. 

 

Glancing to her right, Jemma could see that Fitz was being subjected to similar treatment; an intimidating blonde woman was leaning across toward him, her finger tapping against the table to emphasize her point. To his credit, Fitz was holding his own, and Jemma felt a small burst of pride. He’d come a long way from the beginning of the school year. 

 

Seeing that no one else was waiting to talk to her, Jemma waited until the blonde stalked off before sliding into the spot across from Fitz. He looked startled to see her there, but quickly gave her a smile. Relief bloomed in Jemma’s gut; they had patched things after she’d discovered his recent job search, but they weren’t entirely back on an even keel. Any sign that they were headed that way was appreciated. 

 

“Hey, Jemma. How goes?”

 

“Not bad,” she answered, returning his smile. “If you consider being blamed for every D and F I’ve ever given part of the job. You looked like you were being worked over yourself.”

 

“Yeah, I was. Apparently, ‘m meant t’ give extra credit whenever a student asks. Mrs. O’Sullivan was quiet upset t’ hear tha’ I dinnae give extra credit opportunities. She thinks it’s unconscionable, an’ has decided t’ take it up with the administration.” 

 

Jemma was a bit surprised at Fitz’ calm demeanor given the story he was relating. She knew veteran teachers that would be shaken by something like that; Fitz was entirely relaxed. He was even smirking a bit. 

 

“Oh?” Jemma queried, arching a brow. 

 

“I may have suggested she address her concerns t’ Melinda May.”

 

Jemma outright giggled at that. May was notorious for her flat refusal to bend to parent demands. She claimed that she was merely supporting teachers in their decisions, but the faculty who had been around for a few years suspected that she took pleasure in putting pushy parents back in their place. 

 

“You are a bad, bad man,” she teased with a wide grin. 

 

“Bad man, hmm? Dinnae suppose tha’ means a nice girl like y’ would wan’ t’ grab a drink with me after this then.”

 

The sparkle in his eye made Jemma’s breath catch and sent her stomach turning end over end. It really wasn’t fair how easily he could do that to her, not when she knew he might be leaving the city - if not the state itself - in a few months. Allowing herself to be pulled in even further was a recipe for heartache. 

 

But damn if she was going to lose any time with Fitz while she still had him. 

 

Jemma opened her mouth, ready to fire back an equally flirtatious response, only to be interrupted by Daisy as she plopped down on the bench next to her. Their resident tech guru was uncharacteristically polished, wearing a tailored suit and pair of low heels instead of her usual jeans, hoodie, and boots combo. Jemma had asked her more than once how she managed to get away with disregarding the faculty dress code, but all Daisy would do was smile and comment on there being benefits to hiding in her office all day. 

 

“You’re going to need to buy me dinner if you keep staring like that,” Daisy quipped before flashing a grin toward Fitz. “I’m sure Fitz wouldn’t mind, right?”

 

He quickly stuck his tongue out at her, but returned the smile. 

 

“Only if y’ let me watch later.”

 

“Ew, Fitz!”

 

“Prat!”

 

“‘M jokin’! Y’ both know I dinnae share well anyway.” 

 

He cast a secretive look toward Jemma that sent a little fission of heat down her spine and deep into her gut. Even when he was allowing his lizard brain to dominate things, he appealed to her. If she hadn’t realized it long ago, that alone would have told Jemma she was in trouble where Fitz was concerned. 

 

Before she could allow her brain to venture too far down the road of just what kind of trouble Fitz could help her get into after conferences, Daisy redirected the conversation. 

 

“So, I’ve been thinking-”

 

“Tha’s never good,” Fitz teased, only to have Daisy ignore him. 

 

“-that we all need to get away.” They each gave her a puzzled look, but she pressed on. “Spring break is coming up soon, and I want to take advantage. Nowhere crazy, mind you, I know we’re a bit too old for a Cancún-style spring break, but somewhere warm with beaches wouldn’t go amiss, you know?”

 

Knowing how Daisy could get when her brain stuck on an idea, Jemma opted to proceed with caution. 

 

“Where are you thinking?”

 

“I’m glad you asked,” Daisy beamed at her, putting on her presentation voice and perkiest smile. “Hilton Head, South Carolina. Only 15 hours by car, not so bad if we all take turns driving, and I did some preliminary checking online-”

 

“Of course you did.”

 

“-and we can get a good deal on a beach house if we book by the end of the week.”

 

“‘M not sure,” Fitz hedged, glancing at Jemma. “I was lookin’ forward t’ a quiet week.”

 

“Ah.” Daisy cast a knowing look between the two of them. “You wanted to pull your disappearing act again, huh?”

 

“No, tha’s not wha’ I meant!”

 

“Daisy!”

 

“Look, we’ll each have our private rooms. You guys can disappear whenever you want, since I’m sure Bobbi and Hunter will be doing just that. I don’t care either way. All I want is a chance to sit on a beach all day and relax with my friends at night. Pretty please?” Daisy gave them a pleading look, even going so far as to cling to Jemma’s arm. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

 

Jemma looked at Fitz, trying to get a read on what he was thinking. His face was reserved, but there was a note of hope in his eyes that couldn’t be denied. He would go along with whatever Jemma decided, but the idea of a vacation was appealing to him. 

 

It was to Jemma as well. A week on a beach somewhere, being lazy with her friends and boyfriend? It was the perfect thing to help her power through the last few months of the semester and onto her summer break. And it wasn’t like she’d be losing time with Fitz since he’d be going with them. Maybe they’d even get a chance to have their talk. 

 

“All right, all right,” she answered, nudging Daisy with her shoulder. “Count us in. But I have one conditions: I get to pick our snacks.”

 

~*~

 

Eventually, Jemma had to concede her control of the snack selection. 

 

She had arrived with a bag of veggie straws, popcorn, gluten free biscuits, and pretzels - her one concession to Fitz’ demands - only to have their friends tease her for her choices. Apparently if it wasn’t greasy, salty, overly sweet, or detrimental to your overall health, her friends had no interest in eating it. She tried not to be too put out - they were only snacks, after all - but it must have shown through. Somewhere just after they passed Indianapolis, Fitz reached into her lap to knick one of her biscuits, causing Jemma to smile.

 

They weren’t the only couple in the car that seemed more flirtatious the further they went from home. 

 

At work, Bobbi and Hunter had always been outwardly antagonistic. If Jemma had been pressed, she would have sworn that Hunter had gone out of his way to make Bobbi’s life an absolute hell. When he wasn’t encouraging students to carry out pranks, he was liable to allow them to come up with any number of inventive ways to let them pass the time in his class. Jemma had personally witnessed Hunter’s version of a slam dunk contest, which had really just been an excuse for the students to play with the mini trampolines and attempt to hang on the baskets. It had been a miracle they hadn’t needed to call an ambulance that day. 

 

In response to Hunter’s antics, Bobbi had begun loitering outside the gymnasium - despite it being nowhere near her office - in the hope of heading off trouble before it could find its way into the rest of the school. Jemma and Daisy often saw through that excuse, considering the disputes they’d witnessed on campus often turned into barely-discreet love bites after the pair had left for the day. 

 

If she were being honest, Jemma had always been a bit dubious where Bobbi and Hunter’s relationship was concerned. She had just never understood how someone as self-assured as Bobbi could stand to have a relationship that left her feeling so unhinged so often, and had even gone so far as to ask her. All Bobbi had been able to compare it to was riding a rollercoaster, something Jemma couldn’t quite relate to; she’d always preferred her feet on the ground, after all. 

 

But watching them on the drive down to Hilton Head, Jemma though she might be able to understand just what Bobbi saw in Lance Hunter. Yes, he still made plenty of off-color comments that made Jemma cringe, but he also made sure he left all of the red Skittles for Bobbi from their shared bag, and more than once Jemma had spotted him rubbing Bobbi’s shoulders as she drove. There were small gestures there that spoke to an underlying respect, and that Jemma could understand perfectly well. 

 

Jemma found herself not only pondering her friends’ relationship all during the drive down to their rental, but comparing it to her own as well. Since she’d found out about Fitz’ job hunting, she had taken pains to slow things down. He still spent plenty of nights at her flat - and they had by no means called things off - but Jemma found herself hesitating when it came to slotting Fitz into many of her future plans. She knew they needed to talk about it, but neither of them seemed able to actually draw up the courage to take the plunge and just do it. 

 

It took two days of lounging around their beach house, whiling the time away with wine on the beach and cookouts on their patio, for something to goad them into action. Naturally, it was Daisy who prodded Jemma into action.

 

“You know, I was hoping to leave the elephant in the room back home, not bring it to South Carolina with us.”

 

Jemma merely gave her a look before adjusting her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose and lying back in her lounge chair. 

 

“You need to talk to him. You can’t just keep staring a hole in the side of his head and hoping he changes his mind or whatever you’re trying to do.”

 

“I know,” Jemma sighed, giving up any pretense of ignoring Daisy. “It’s just bloody difficult to do.”

 

“That may be, but is it worth staying in limbo?”

 

Jemma nibbled her bottom lip, considering Daisy’s point. She and Fitz had developed a natural rapport from the first day they met. It had only grown after they finally slept together, but had stalled since. The fact that they both suddenly felt a need to be so reserved with each other was driving Jemma up the proverbial wall. She would bet anything that Fitz felt the same. 

 

“You’re right. It’s not.”

 

Daisy gave her a dazzling smile before leaning back and putting in her earbuds. 

 

“I know I am. So fix it quick and you guys can get back to whatever freaky nerd sex - Ow!” 

 

Whatever Daisy had been about to say, Jemma would never know as the sudden arrival of Jemma’s paperback on her stomach had derailed her train of thought. But while she and Daisy dissolved into giggles, Jemma found herself doing what she did best: mentally mapping out a plan for how to finally have her talk with Fitz. 

 

~*~

 

She made her move in the early evening, while the others were getting ready to put that night’s dinner together. She came up behind Fitz, who was busy watching Bobbi and Hunter flirt while they chopped vegetables for kababs. He started a bit when she slid her arm around his waist and leaned her cheek against his shoulder, but Jemma was pleased to see how quickly he relaxed into her. 

 

“Hey. Feel like taking a walk with me?”

 

Jemma saw understanding flash in his eyes, followed quickly by nerves before Fitz managed to give her a small smile. 

 

“Sure. Where to?”

 

The ultimately decided to just walk along the beach, each of them carrying their shoes in one hand while they linked the others. They meandered in silence for a bit, enjoying the sea breeze and the feeling of sand beneath their toes, before Jemma got up the nerve to start. 

 

“So, we should talk about what happened.”

 

“Yeah,” Fitz blew out a breath and used his grip on her hand to tug her closer. “We should. So, wha’ did y’ want t’ know, Jemma?”

 

Given all the time she’d had to think about it, Jemma knew exactly what she wanted to ask. 

 

“Why were you looking for new jobs? Are you not happy working at Crestwood?” 

 

She’d done her level best to keep her obvious disappointment from her voice, but given the way Fitz’ eyes went wide and shot over to her, she’d failed miserably. 

 

“No! Well, kind of.” Fitz took a deep breath and exhaled, rolling his shoulders before beginning. “I am happy a’ Crestwood, in a way. I like our coworkers - hell, ‘m friends with most o’ them. ‘M certainly glad I met you,” Fitz admitted, giving her a bright smile and pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

 

“I hear a ‘but.’”

 

“Y’ do. The fact o’ the matter is tha’ I’m not a teacher. I dinnae want t’ be a teacher. ‘M an engineer. And while ‘m thankful that I had connections tha’ got me a job, allowed me t’ stay in th’ country, and best o’ all, meet y’, I want t’ use my degree. Can  y’ understand tha’?”

 

Sensing that he was feeling vulnerable, Jemma tugged her hand out of his so she could wrap her arm around his waist instead. She wanted to be close to him and had a feeling that Fitz was wanting the same kind of contact at the moment. 

 

“I do, Fitz. I do,” Jemma murmured, her fingers stroking lightly over his side in a manner she hoped he found soothing. “I imagine I’d feel the same way if I wasn’t allowed to use mine. I can’t fault you for that.”

 

“So,” Jemma felt Fitz’ chest expand as took a deep breath, clearly getting ready to ask something he clearly thought would be unpleasant, “why did y’ get so upset with me then?”

 

“Honestly, I was scared.”

 

“Scared? Why would y’ be scared o’ me lookin’ for a new job?”

 

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma sighed as they began to move again. “It’s not you trying to find a new job. It’s the fact that it was 300 miles away. We’ve just started dating. I just figured-” Jemma felt her throat go tight, cutting off her speech. She swallowed and pushed on. “I figured it was the beginning of the end.”

 

“I doesnae have t’ be. If I took th’ job… y’ could come with me.”

 

Fitz words were quiet, so quiet they were nearly carried away by the crash of the waves on the beach and the sea breeze that buffeted them. Still, Jemma heard him and felt her heart lift. He might have been looking to move, but he’d thought of taking her with him. Sweet, silly man. 

 

“I could,” she admitted, “but I’d have to look into licensing in Michigan. And then there’s still no guarantee that I could find a job there.”

 

“That’s fair. No’ like I could ask y’ to give up your career anymore than you’d expec’ me t’ give up mine.”

 

There was something defeated in his tone that tugged at Jemma’s heart. 

 

“Fitz, you had an engineering job back home at one point. Are you certain there aren’t closer engineering firms that interest you?”

 

“T’ be honest, I havenea had much of a chance t’ look. I only found ou’ about this job because Mack told me about it. Mos’ of th’ time ‘m too busy grading or plannin’ to bother with a job hunt.”

 

A plan was forming in Jemma’s mind, and she found the words tumbling over her lips before she could over think it. 

 

“What if I helped you?” Fitz gave her a puzzled look. “Seriously, Fitz. I could help you with your planning or grading. I didn’t focus on physics at uni, but I certainly know enough to help you with your marking. Would that give you time to job hunt?”

 

Fitz’ face broke out in a wide, genuine grin, and Jemma felt a sense of calm come over her. He seemed to like the idea, something she found reassuring. 

 

“Yeah, I think i’ migh’.” Fitz stopped walking and Jemma stopped along with him. He pulled her around to face him, and letting go of her hand, brought his up to brush her hair out of her face. “Y’ are absolutely brilliant. Did y’ know tha’?”

 

“I may have been told that from time to time,” Jemma replied with an impish smile, “but I’m glad to hear it from you. Feel free to tell me often.”

 

Fitz chuckled and pulled her into a kiss, and for the first time since she’d found that stupid envelope and they’d fought, Jemma thought everything truly would be all right between them. 

 

“I’ll tell y’ every day if y’ like, particularly since you’re doin’ my markin’.”

 

“That better not be the only reason!” Jemma teased back, tickling his stomach and giggling when he jumped away from her. 

 

“No, never!” Fitz promised as he caught her in another hug, effectively ending her tickle attack. He pressed a kiss to her temple before pulling back. “Y’ know tha’ I may have t’ take the Michigan job, yeah? ‘M gonna try t’ find somethin’ closer, but if that’s it, I may have to take it.”

 

His statement deflated Jemma’s good mood a bit, but she could see the logic in it. He wasn’t invested in teaching; she would feel terrible if she were stuck in a career she didn’t love. How could she hold that against Fitz? 

 

“I know. I understand. And if it comes down to that, well, I’ll see what teaching requirements are in Michigan.”

 

She had barely finished the statement when Fitz gave a loud whoop and lifted her off her feet, spinning her around him in his excitement. He spun her until they were both dizzy, and eventually they collapsed onto the sand, holding each other close as they caught their breath. 

 

Jemma had never felt more content. Yes, she knew the future held major changes for her, but she found she was less worried about them than she would have been even a few short months ago. Changes may come, but Fitz was beside her. 

 

Together, they could face down anything. 


End file.
